


Lover's Eyes

by lollercakes



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:37:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 30,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollercakes/pseuds/lollercakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss and Peeta and the problem with drowning inside. An AU story about the struggle with depression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I feel the bed move as he shifts to the edge and rubs heavily at his eyes. It’s not yet dawn but I’m already awake, curled chest to knees and my head tucked against my hands. His warmth slowly sleeps from its place around me as I listen to his heavy gait move from the bed to the closet, to the bathroom down the hall. Every morning he wakes before the dawn and heads to his bakery to prepare the finest cookies and breads that the city has ever tasted.

Most mornings I rouse myself and prepare for my morning jog with Prim as he showers and dresses. Some mornings I join him, abandoning my work out for exercise of a different variety.

But today I simply tuck my cheek closer to the pillow and clench my eyes shut at the strip of light that lands across my face from the hallway light.

When he returns some time later I’m still awake, stilled curled like a tightly wound coil under the covers. His large frame blocks out the light as he peeks through the doorway to regard me. I don’t move. Not today.

“I’ll see you this afternoon,” he whispers quietly, his lips pressing to my forehead before his thumb brushes my cheek. I don’t open my eyes. Or move. Or do anything. “I love you.” The statement echoes off the walls as he shuts the bedroom door quietly and heads down the stairs.

It’s been two weeks since I ran my morning jog. Two weeks since I moved from this bed for more than a few hours. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, not really. I just want to sleep and hide from everything I have to do which really isn’t much considering my shifts with Haymitch at the bar have petered off lately.

“Are you coming in tonight, sweetheart?” Haymitch garbles into the phone, the noise of a rowdy lunch crowd rolling through behind him. It’s the third shift I’ve called in for since it started. It’s been one week.

“Um...” I hum aloud, but just barely. The old man sighs audibly before letting the silence crawl across the line. “I don’t think I can make it.” My words are quiet, timid. More silence meets me.

“I don’t – it’s none of my business – but, are you doing good Katniss?” He hesitantly asks. I feel my throat tighten at his words.

Haymitch had never much been one to broach things he didn’t want to talk about and I never pushed him for details on why he drank so much, but now he was asking and I was afraid of telling something that I didn’t quite understand myself. I wasn’t doing good at all.  

“I’m okay. Just tired is all,” I mumble in response and the man coughs, starting a sentence and then abandoning it.

“Okay. Look, I’ll take you off the schedule for now. Give a call when you’re back on your feet, or if you need anything, ‘right?” His voice is more gruff than usual and I can’t tell if it is annoyance or something else.

“Alright.”

That was a week ago now. I hadn’t called him back and he hadn’t called me which was really all for the best. All I wanted to do was sleep anyways.

* * *

“Katniss, are you coming down for dinner?” Peeta pokes his head through the door, the light from the hallway haloing around his blonde mess of curls. It is dark outside again and I realize I’ve slept through most of the day. Just as well, I figure, I didn’t sleep much last night.

“Okay,” I reply though my body doesn’t comply despite my stomach growling anxiously. My eyes meet Peeta’s across the small space and he frowns ever so slightly. I try again, stretching my legs from my chest and moving my hand across the cotton sheets.

I wanted to get up and go to dinner. I hadn’t eaten since sometime yesterday. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Why don’t I bring it up and we can have it here?” Peeta suggests, witnessing my struggle and forcing a fake cheeriness to his voice.

“Okay.”

Ten minutes later he returns, tray laden with two bowls of soup and sliced fresh bread. The smell wafts towards me and my stomach aches appreciatively.

“I’m sorry it’s not much, I was short on a few things downstairs,” he states, setting the tray on the side table and shifting onto the bed. I try to ignore the fact that the reason we don’t have much is because I haven’t been to the store in days. “Hey, let’s sit up to eat.” He smiles and pulls affectionately at my hands until I’m sitting up and shifting myself back against the headboard as he pulls the tray down before me.

It’s quiet for a long while the only sounds filling the room that of our breathing and the spoons hitting the bowls. I’m not done when he finishes – not close to halfway even – when he puts his dishes aside and turns fully towards me. I feel his gaze upon me, burning into the side of my face where the stray hairs from my unkempt braid don’t hide me. 

“Katniss,” he starts slowly, shifting slightly and still watching. Out of the corner of my eye I see his hands curl in the sheets, tensing and releasing nervously, before settling. “Something isn’t right. I’m worried.”

The concern in his voice, the way his words crack at the end, forces me to look up at him quickly. I watch the shutter of surprise pass over his features before he returns to his concern.

“You’ve been staying home a lot. Talking even less than normal, even for you. It’s like sometimes you’re not even here even though your body is right in front of me. I don’t know what’s going on but I want to help. Please let me help you,” Peeta doesn’t plead, but I can’t ignore the hint of desperation in his words.

“I –“ My throat tightens and my mouth dries. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to _stop_ whatever it is that’s happening. All I know is that I just want to sleep and not be a burden anymore. Not to him, not to anyone. I just want to sleep.

His face doesn’t let me say that though. Not Peeta. He doesn’t know how much I need him or how much I want to make him happy. Deep down inside I know I want that, need that, for him. I just don’t know how to do it right now.

“I’ll be better,” I try instead, looking away from his searching gaze. I look at my bare feet as they lay exposed from under the sheet. His hands distract me as they reach over into my line of sight and grasp at my foot before pulling it into his lap.

“You don’t have to be better, just tell me how to help,” he murmurs as his strong kneading fingers press into the soles of my feet. My hands shake on the edges of the bowl of soup I still cradle before he takes it and places it quietly on the side table. His hands return to my feet and begin massaging deeply, pressing into my arches and forcing my toes to curl.

The moan slips out of me without notice and I stretch backwards onto my back as he continues his ministrations. It feels good – my body hums under his hands just like it always does.

Abruptly, my feet are placed back on the bed and I feel him snake his body alongside mine until his nose nudges my shoulder and the heat of his palm spreads across my stomach. It feels so nice, like something I’ve missed for so long finally returning to me. It’s only a flicker though before my mood stalls and my body feels quiet again.

Watching, eyes wide, I let him rise slowly above me, his knuckle grazing my chin before his lips press against mine. The kiss is slow, languid, as his tongue slides across the crease of my mouth. I grant him entrance if only because I know he needs this – I know that a denial would only make him more concerned – so I let him kiss me. I let his hands slip into my hair and his nails scrape lightly across my scalp as I feel numb beneath his tongue.

“Katniss,” he breaks away after a moment. My eyes are closed but I know he’s staring at me. He noticed. He always notices everything.

Tilting my chin up and away, I clench my eyelids tight together trying to keep the hot tears from spilling free. I don’t want to do this to him. I don’t want him to feel my pain. My aching numbness.

I don’t know what’s wrong.

“Katniss, look at me,” he asks quietly and guides my face back towards his. I can’t open my eyes. He’ll see so much more if I open my eyes. He always does.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp and my lungs heave with the struggle to keep the tears at bay.

“Don’t – Katniss, don’t apologize, please.” He pleads. Peeta never pleads. I can feel his hands framing my face now. I know he’s on his knees, kneeling above me but still so close as I try to turn and curl into myself. “Let me help – just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it. It’ll be okay – please just tell me.”

I shake my head and the tears break loose, flowing down my cheeks and into my hair. The silence is deafening. He rarely sees me cry.

Without anymore said he releases me from his grip and my body instinctively curls away until my back faces him and my face is pushed into the pillow as I sob. So consumed in my tears I barely notice that he’s flush against my body, his arms wrapped tightly around me and his face tucked against my shoulder, until the numbness returns to me and the tears dry up.

His own silent tears wet my shirt some hours later. I don’t sleep much that night. Neither does he.


	2. Chapter 2

I pull myself free from the sheets and his arms, dragging myself to the bathroom down the hall as quietly as I can. I’m barely seated on the toilet before there’s a crash and a shout.

“Katniss!” Peeta’s strangled voice registers and my body stiffens. He’s at the door, pounding on it before I can even clean myself.

“I’m okay,” I call out meekly as I press the handle to flush and run the water to wash my hands. The banging stops, replaced by a heavy thump. When I pull back the door slowly, I have to reach out and steady Peeta whose heavy frame was leaning against the door.

“I thought – I had a dream and –“ he stumbles over his words, squeezing at the spot between his eyes. I can see the dark circles forming around his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. I’m hurting him without even trying.

“Shh, it’s okay – I’m okay,” I reply quietly and steer us back towards the bedroom. I hear him mumble, the unmistakable “No, you’re not,” slipping past his lips. I choose to ignore it, helping us back into bed and curling into his chest. As his body slowly slips back into sleep I promise myself that tomorrow will be different.

* * *

I get out of bed when he gets out of bed. He stares at me for a moment, his mouth in a straight line as his eyes search mine. I turn away first, heading downstairs to pull together a cereal for myself.

He joins me in the kitchen not too much later, his hair damp and his hands working their way up his uniform button up shirt. There isn’t an uncomfortable pause like I expect before he leans down and kisses my forehead, his hand lingering on my shoulder.

“Want to walk with me to the bakery?” He asks lightly, grabbing a boiled egg and banana from the fridge for his pre-breakfast snack. I know he’ll dip into yesterday’s leftovers for the rest of his meal, just like he always does.

“Um, sure,” I answer and carefully place my bowl in the sink. I return to the bedroom quickly and pull on a pair of light pants, a shirt and grab my jacket before making my way back downstairs. Finding him pulling his boots on in the hallway he smiles tightly in my direction, almost as if he was surprised I’d agreed.

“You really okay with doing this?” He asks gently, moving back to his feet and stepping towards me to rest his hands on my shoulders. The heat from him warms me, my body waking up to his touch.

“It’ll be good for me.”

Without another questioning word we head down the sidewalk and towards the bakery that’s a few blocks away.

Back before we moved here, Peeta and I used to walk the neighbourhood and imagine our home here. The bakery had always been housed in the quaint community, passed down through his family from his father to him. It had only seemed logical that we end up making our lives here.

As we walked though, for the first time in a long time, I couldn’t quite capture what Peeta was thinking. His face was sheltered, the mask he uses around his disaster of a mother firmly in place over his features. It’s reappearance only reminds me of what happened last night and how these last few weeks have taken not only a toll on us individually, but our relationship as well.

I had to be better. The thing is, I didn’t know _how_ to be better.

We were less than a block away from the bakery when I felt Peeta take my hand in his. As he gave it a squeeze, I chanced a glance towards his face, taking in the sight of his tight smile and the small furrow between his brow. I wanted more than anything to draw my thumb across it – to smooth it out and tell him it would be okay – but I wasn’t sure that would help. Instead I tucked myself against his side and let us walk hand in hand the last stretch together.

Without question, I followed him in after he unlocked and pulled open the door. Once inside though I stood there awkwardly, gazing around at the familiar setting but feeling like I didn’t belong. Wrapping my arms around my stomach I shifted on my feet while Peeta began his morning routine.

“I, uh...” I mumbled, biting my lip and looking at the street through the front glass windows. He turned towards me, his hand hovering over a switch as his lips fought against the frown I could see brewing.

“Why don’t you stay for a while?” He asked quietly, breaking the silence. “You can just sit at the window and people watch.”

I could see then what he was doing, almost clear as day. He wanted me here because whatever he’d dreamed about had spooked him. He was afraid to leave me alone.

My body tightened at the realization and I nodded swiftly, moving to one of the bistro tables against the window and sinking down into a metallic chair. Crossing my arms, I stared out the window and tried to ignore the look I knew he was throwing my way.

I don’t know how long it was that I sat there. The sun breached the sky and Peeta didn’t fail to place a decadent pastry before me which I nibbled at mindlessly. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon, by the light cascading in, that I came back to myself and caught wind of what was happening at the cash register. I’m not even sure why I noticed it – there were no loud voices or anything out of the norm – it was just the way he was standing behind the till, the woman’s hand resting on his arm as she laughed lightly.

My empty stomach rolled at the sight and I stood abruptly, my legs aching with tension, before I slipped out the door.

I was home before I could even process why I’d run from the bakery so fast. Collapsing into the shower I let the steam waft over me as the moment sped endlessly through my mind. He hadn’t even done anything wrong and yet the jealousy and the rejection burned like a fresh wound.

Crying until the water ran cold I slowly pulled my sore limbs from the tub and wrapped myself in the terrycloth towel off the rack. My movements were slow, exhausted, as I fiddled with the lock and opened the door. The scream caught in my throat as I looked down to find Peeta sitting in the hallway, his back against the wall and his head in his hands.

“Peeta!” I hissed, startled as my heart sped in my chest. When he looked up I could see the red rimming his eyes, his face drawn.

“I called doctor Aurelius,” he stated calmly, moving to his feet. I knew I was scowling then, shifting on my feet and looking away.

“Why? You didn’t have the right,” I replied lowly.

“You disappeared today. I watched you all day and you didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch when Thom dropped a rack of bread and then without a word of goodbye or anything you just _disappeared_. Katniss, I don’t know what to do!”

“You didn’t need to –“

“Yes! I did!” He shouted, raising his voice and his hands. I stood there scolded, my shoulders hunched as I tried to hold it together. I hated that I was doing this to him. I hated it. “Let’s get you dressed,” he mumbled after a moment, his hand reaching out to me tentatively.

Turning, I ignored him and moved to the bedroom without a word, slowly shutting the door with a quiet click. Me inside, Peeta standing still with his arm outstretched in the hallway.

I couldn’t do this to him anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

"So, what brings you in today Katniss?" Doctor Aurelius smiles, sitting at his tiny computer desk as I hunch over in my chair in the corner of the room. I'm sweating underneath my clothes having worn far too many for the spring temperature outside but I don't regret it, not as I fist my hands in my scarf and cover my chin.

I'm trying to hide in plain sight, if I'm being honest.

"I um, don't know. I guess I've been feeling different," I mumble, my eyes locked on the motivational poster across the room. I hear his chair squeak as he shifts and clears his throat.

"How so? Why don't we start by describing what you're feeling and we'll go from there?"

"I don't want to be here." I keep it simple. To the point. There's a heavy silence around the room and I pull tightly at my scarf.

"In this room?" Aurelius presses and I finally look at him head on. He doesn't blink and I don't look away, determined to stare him down until I can leave. "Or in general?" His voice sinks lower, almost as though he were tentative in his asking.

My throat won't let me respond and we sit there quietly as the bustle outside of the patient room creeps through the walls.

"Are you sleeping alright?" Turning towards the computer, I watch as he begins to type, my lack of answer to his question hanging in the air like a shadow.

"Not really. It's either all the time or not at all." I force out.

"How about your appetite? And your energy level?" His hands start to fly across the keys, tapping quickly with my responses. _Minimal appetite, no energy, crying a lot, quick to temper_. The answers continue pouring out of me like a dam has been broken. "And your intimacy levels – how are you and Peeta handling these changes?"

The question catches me off guard and I freeze, my mouth going dry. It's embarrassing, to say the least. How am I handling it? Well, I don't want to do anything so that's how I'm handling it. But Peeta? I don't know, not really. The thought of it makes me wonder and I start to recall how tentative he's been this last month, how his touches have been just ghosts over my skin, his kisses more doting than passionate.

"He – I..." I struggle to answer, the flush rising in my cheeks.

"It's okay, Katniss. I know he made the appointment which does signal that he is concerned. When people experience major depressive episodes similar to what you're experiencing now, they often withdraw from those they love and are resistant to a lot of consistent behaviours for themselves. What you seem to be experiencing here is relatively normal and I think you would benefit from a plan of action. What do you think?" His eyes watch me intently as I shift nervously. I don't like the idea of this. I don't like thinking I'm sick. I don't want to even fucking be here.

"Do we have to?" The words slip out of me more meekly than I expect, almost childlike as I swallow the spit that's pooled in my mouth. Wiping my sweaty palms on my legs I grasp at my scarf again and try to ignore the tension building in my joints.

"Katniss, will you be honest with me if I ask you a question?" He counters calmly. I nod my response, keeping my lips pressed tightly closed. "With these feelings that you're having, are you thinking of suicide?"

The breath instantly leaves my chest and I gasp quietly, feeling as though something has hit me squarely. The words aloud force chills to my skin and I bite my lip so hard I nearly taste blood. The nod comes once, quick, and I look away ashamed of my honesty.

"It's not – " I choke, pulling at my scarf with my sweaty fingers. "I just – It hurts and I want it to stop. I don't want to – just, I want it to stop." My words seemingly trip over themselves as they fill the room, my gasping breaths echoing loudly in the quiet that Aurelius has not filled. With my admission, a strange sense of panic seems to bloom within me and I apologize, pleading with him to ignore it.

"This is serious, Katniss. It's safe here; it's okay to admit it. That's why you're here today." Aurelius comforts, offering me a box of tissues to deal with the tears that I didn't notice had come. I sputter along for a few minutes longer, trying to catch my breath with the admission I've just made. It takes a moment for me to fully realize that this is the first time I've verbalized what I'm feeling and that what I'm feeling _scares me_.

I seem to drift in and out a bit as Aurelius excuses himself to gather some pamphlets for me. I look up when the nurse pops her head in the room and asks if I'd like Peeta to join me. I sit tight-lipped for a moment, thinking it over. I'm terrified of what he'll say. What he'll do. His strength makes me feel weak.

What if he leaves?

What if I hurt him?

What if I hurt _myself_?

Aurelius returns to the room before I answer and the nurse repeats the question as though I hadn't heard it the first time.

"It's up to you, Katniss, but I think Peeta and you both would benefit from him being here to help. You don't have to say yes though, that's okay as well," he adds carefully and I nod quickly before I can change my mind again. The nurse disappears as Aurelius sits heavily in his chair, typing a few more things into the computer before the door opens again and Peeta slips in slowly.

He's at my side in a moment, crouching before me and brushing my cheeks with his thumbs. His eyes bore into mine, a sadness there that I can't cure.

"Hi," he murmurs quietly and then slowly moves until he's sitting beside me with an arm across my shoulders and my hand clenched tightly in his lap. I let his body heat surround me like a warm blanket, wrapping myself up in the feel of him giving me his strength.

"How does this work?" Peeta asks quietly, his voice cracking in the middle. Aurelius looks to me and I nod, giving him permission to do the talking on my behalf.

"Katniss is, I believe, experiencing a major depressive episode which is impacting the way in which she interacts and participates on a daily basis. Would you agree with this?" Aurelius turns from Peeta towards me and I nod lowly, my head hanging as I feel Peeta's arm tighten around my shoulders. "I would like to suggest a medicinal approach at first – " Aurelius pauses when my head snaps up and a scowl forms upon my face.

"You didn't say anything about drugs," I mention slowly.

"I'm aware. I'm mentioning it now and I'd like to discuss with you why I think this is the best initial method – is that alright?"

I turn it over for a moment, considering him. He never once looks away, clearly not frightened by this patient who is clearly a risk. Beside me, Peeta remains silent, actively supporting me in whatever decision I choose.

"Why drugs?" I ask, permitting him to continue.

"I consider there to be two broad forms of depression, Katniss. There are the people who have factors in their lives that contribute to it, like a close death or a lost job, and there are people who are just naturally struggling with their moods due to chemical imbalances in the brain.

"Not all cases fall within these scopes, of course, but from what you've explained to me you do not appear to be actively engaged in any activities that would be contributing to your depression. You mention that your energy levels and other normal activities have stopped not due to major changes but simply because of your mood. This to me suggests that you fall more within the latter category where you may benefit more from medicinal assistance than purely from counselling. Does that make sense?" He finishes, his hands clasped together as he leans forward on his knees.

For a moment I simply let the words sink in, wash over me until they make sense. The idea of taking magical pills to make me feel better seems laughable, almost ridiculous, and I nearly scoff until I catch Peeta's eye as he watches me. Turning to him I find I don't even need to verbalize the question before he's squeezing my hand and reminding me that whatever I choose he'll be there for me.

In that second I know that if he's willing to work so hard to support me I desperately need to work at fixing myself. I can't continue on doing this to him – not knowingly.

"Okay," I mumble. I let my body relax slowly, my shoulders falling from their tense position near my ears as Aurelius begins to explain my method of treatment and the possible side effects that may appear as I start to adjust to the drugs. All the while I find solace in the burning touch of Peeta's hand at my waist and the idea that I'm not alone in this.


	4. Chapter 4

"Everdeen?" I hear my name called out from behind the counter and I look up slowly, my eyes bleary from where the heels of my hands have been pressed into them. "Katniss Everdeen?" The woman calls out again. Beside me Peeta runs his hand along my back comfortingly.

"Here," I call and get to my feet. I stride to the till with all of the confidence I can muster, which isn't saying much.

"Have you taken these before?" The aging woman asks softly, reading the label before flicking her gaze towards me over her half-moon glasses. I shake my head 'no' and she nods, pulling out the bottle for me. "They're quite standard and all the instructions are here. For the first four days only take half pills. Then on the fifth you can move onto the full dose. Make sense?"

"How about side effects?" Peeta startles me with his question – I'd forgotten in my haze that he was behind me.

"You might have some light dizziness or upset stomach. Maybe some trouble with your digestion. I'd recommend taking them in the morning as they've been known for causing restlessness and avoid driving until you know how they affect you. There's an information pack inside which you can read over – call your doctor if you have any concerns or experience any severe side effects, alright?"

I nodded frequently as she continued on, the words quickly passing through one ear and out the other. Surely I hoped Peeta was paying attention because I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed as she spoke. I was still struggling with the idea that these pills were going to change me on a deeper level. Make me someone I'm not.

"That will be $74.50 – "

" _What_?" I gawked, my jaw hanging open as the price reverberated in my skull. I knew drugs were expensive – I wasn't ignorant to that – but for just a few measly white pills?

"Don't worry about it," Peeta murmured and handed over his credit card and grabbing at the white bag from the counter.

"' _Don't worry about it'_? Peeta, I can't afford that!" My voice inched higher and I noticed the pharmacist hesitate with the card in her hand. Peeta didn't flinch at my tone, instead waving to the woman and then turning towards me with a look on his face I couldn't quite understand.

"Katniss – we're doing this, right? You want this? To try it out?" His words were calm but his eyes were swirling blue storms as they focused on me.

"But –" I stuttered, my mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"No 'buts'. We're in this together and if you want this, we'll get this. We can afford this. You're not in it alone. Please let me help." Biting my lip, I closed my eyes tight and nodded, desperately trying to will the tears welling to stay put behind my eyelids.

In all the years that I'd known Peeta he'd always been too generous for me. It had gone without saying that Peeta was financially secure – if not a little well off – from his upbringing. At times it had been difficult for me, especially after growing up on the brink of poverty and having to struggle so often and for so little. Where he grew up with all of the possibilities at his fingertips, I often had to fight tooth and nail to reach the next rung.

Reminiscing on the situation I couldn't help but remember the sense of owing that I had held onto for so long in our relationship. I used to keep a mental tally of our dinners, our shared lunches, everything, just so that every once in a while I could make attempts to pay him back when I could. He never wanted it. Not once. I'd thought I'd finally made him push me away when a year ago a fight had us living apart from one another – me in our house and him in a hotel. It had only been a few days but we both knew after that we were in it for the long haul.

I'd come home from the bar where I worked one night and found him tucked away in our bed, a shirt of mine tucked against his cheek. I knew right then that we were inseparable and that I needed to move past this. It hadn't been easy – I'd struggled to fight my ingrained ideas and Peeta had worked hard to resist his need to pamper me. Together we'd moved forward and eventually found a balance which worked for us both.

But as I watched the woman hand back his credit card and we moved out the door of the pharmacy I couldn't stop those old feelings from climbing back to the surface and haunting me at every moment. The worst part of it all was that not only now did I owe him for how he cared for me, but I owed him for the medicines he bought for me too.

Without warning, my anxiety crept inside and began to blister beneath my skin. What if a week from now he couldn't handle my problems anymore? Or if he got tired of it? If he left? I couldn't afford my medicine. I couldn't do this.

"I can't – Peeta – " The words cracked in my throat as I sat in the front seat of his truck and gasped for air. The adrenaline burned under my skin, pumping through me as my breathing picked up and the panic attack began to set in fully.

Nothing else seemed to matter then while I gripped my knees and tried to push through the tension and the fear coursing through my blood. I'm not sure how long I sat there, my body nervously shaking as I fought for control. When I finally came back to my senses I found Peeta with his hands wrapped around mine in my lap.

"I'm not going anywhere." He stated carefully and then turned towards the wheel, turning over the engine and pulling out of the lot without another word.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've determined that these are definitely going to be more "glimpses" and some might be shorter and some might be longer. I'm not aiming for a traditional style here as it's really just when the moment hits to write something about the struggles and successes that come with depression. I hope you find something in this and please feel free to ask me anything anytime as I try to answer all my reviews.


	5. Chapter 5

“Kat,” Peeta mumbles from beside me, his large hand palming the bed in search of my body. I watch through the mirror atop our dresser as he swings his body up, eyes wide with something unknown, and spots me sitting at the edge of the bed. “What’re you doing?” His voice rasps rubbing his stubbled chin brusquely.

“I couldn’t sleep. Go back to bed,” I reply quietly and turn my attention to the window where I had been staring aimlessly for what felt like hours.

I’d started my prescription two days ago, two long days of lying in bed merely to find myself wide awake and restless in the darkest hours of night. The first night I’d gone downstairs and fiddled with the TV only to be startled when Peeta had stormed down after me. I tried to talk him down from the panic but it hadn’t helped much. Me disappearing in the middle of the night was putting his nerves on edge and nothing I could say seemed to fix it. 

So the night after that I’d stuck it out, tossing and turning under the covers, every so often disturbing Peeta’s sleeping form and feeling guilty for keeping him awake. I couldn’t help but feel even worse when he returned from the bakery in the afternoon and crashed into bed, dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t say a thing about it, not once.

Tonight though, I’d been determined not to ruin his sleep. When 1am finally came I stopped flipping from side to side and moved to the edge of the bed, crossing my legs and leaning my elbows onto my knees. I didn’t move for hours, steadily watching him sleep or watching the moon move across the sky through the window. Thankfully, though I was wide awake, I failed to grow bored, often finding myself too busy being consumed with my own miserable thoughts and anxieties.

I knew it would only last so long though.

Peeta had always been the one who was restless without me. It’s like he could tell even in his deepest depths of sleep that I wasn’t near him and that that needed to be rectified immediately. It had all started after he’d moved back in. We’d spent a whole day in bed, making up for lost time and finding each other again. That night though Peeta had held to me as though I was leaving and I could never forget the words he’d mumbled in his sleep.

How he’d wanted me to be his wife. How he could never let me go. How he wanted me to have his children.

None of that had come true yet.

“Come lie down, I’ll make you some warm milk,” he murmured and slid to the side of the bed, drawing my attention away from the dark hole my thoughts were circling.

I wanted them all to come true but I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t punish him with the way I was now.

“Kat.” I caught his eye as he stared at me from the doorway. “I love you.”

With that he disappeared down the hallway, the sounds of the microwave and glassware coming from the kitchen. I tried to hold onto his words, to grab them up and let them fill me like the first time I’d heard them.

When he returned to the room, two mugs in his hands, I shimmied back down the bed until my back rested against the headboard. He joined me there and passed me a mug, slowly taking a sip from his own as his arm circled my shoulders and pulled me close.

“I’m going to make cheese buns today. The kind with the chunks of cheese inside that melt out when you pull them apart. What kind of cheese should I use?” He asks, distracting me with the taunting thought of my favourite food. A small pang hints in my stomach at the memory and it’s a faint echo of the desire I normally have for the food.

At least it’s something though, I have to admit.

“You should try mozzarella today,” I answer quietly and drink down some of the warm liquid. I can taste the honey he’s drizzled in it and I want to live in this mug forever. “You always use cheddar. Mozzarella would be a nice change.”

“Should I put parmesan and garlic in them this time?” He continues on, brainstorming his recipe while we finish our milk. Before long, he’s placed his mug on the bedside table and is leaning into my shoulder with his head resting against mine. I feel the calm and measured breathing telling of his sleep and I place my own mug down before shifting us until we’re lying flat on the mattress.

I can’t sleep, not really, so instead I watch him sleep while my fingers ghost over his unruly curls. I try not to let my mind wander, choosing to focus on the task of running my hands through his hair. It’s soothing, the repetition and the quiet of the night as the breeze comes through the window.

Before long the alarm blares in the room and Peeta rouses himself awake, his hand gripping mine and bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss.

“You should call your sister,” he states as he returns from the shower moments later. I stare at him from the bed, my mouth in a tight line. I hadn’t talked to Prim much since we stopped jogging. She’d called a few times, wondering when I’d be back on my feet, but I’d brushed it off by saying I wasn’t feeling well. Now it seemed like too much time had passed to reach out to her and I was nervous that she’d see right through me.

“Maybe,” I mumbled and watched him pull on his uniform shirt.

“I’ll see you this afternoon, love you,” Peeta whispered, leaning towards me and pressing a kiss to my lips. I savoured the touch of his lips on mine, curling my hands around his shirt collar until he pulled away reluctantly. “Save that for when I get home,” he joked and my heart skipped as his pupils widened at my actions.

Without another word he was gone, off to work at the bakery while I spent the day moving slowly throughout the house. I somehow made it to the grocer around noon, picking up some vegetables and a cut of beef. I even managed to pull a brush through my hair and braid it back from my face, much to my own surprise.

When Peeta returned home later that afternoon and found me preparing stew in the kitchen I thought he’d die of shock from the look on his face.  

“You’re up,” he states, carefully placing his shoes with their heels to the floorboards, just as usual. I nod in return, turning the stove top to a simmer and sitting down in a chair at the table.

“I thought maybe if I moved around more I could sleep tonight,” I reply carefully, tracing my hand with my finger.

“Okay. That sounds good. I also um...” He pauses and looks around nervously, moving to stir the stew after placing a white bag from his bakery on the table. I’m distracted by the delicious scent wafting towards me.

Cheese buns.

Oh, I love these.

“Um, so, Katniss,” he starts again but keeps his back to me. After pulling one apart and stuffing part of it past my lips I turn to him and cock an eyebrow in his direction. “I asked Prim today about your medications.”

I hear the chair scrape across the floor before I even realize I’m standing, the flush of anger rushing through me quicker than fire.

“You _what_?” I screech, my body thrumming. I haven’t felt this much in... So long I can’t remember. It’s infuriating, especially since it’s _anger_ that I’m feeling.

“Wait – “ He stalls, turning back towards me with his hands up in defence. His eyes beg me to listen but all I feel are my hands shaking.

“Peeta! Prim doesn’t need to _know_. Not after Mom! What were you thinking?” The words tumble from my lips, tripping over themselves as images of my mother’s lifeless body flood through me.

My mother. She’d taken her own life. I’d found her in bed a year after my father’s death, overdosed after struggling with depression of her own. I couldn’t stop the rushing feeling of my blood in my veins, or my fear of turning into her, from crashing through me.

“Katniss – stop. Please, just let me explain – “

“No! Do you know what this will do to her? She can’t lose me too! She won’t – “ I feel his arms wrap around me tightly, crushing me to him fiercely.

“She’s not going to lose you. She’ll never lose you. You’re not going anywhere. You can’t, Katniss, you _can’t_ ,” he whispers desperately into my hair. I can feel his fingers digging into my spine. “Just, let me tell you, okay?”

Though the anger still courses through me, my hands begin to steady and I come down from the rush. Stepping out of his grasp I return to my chair and cross my arms, then my legs, closing myself off.

“She came by today just to say hello. We got to talking about her nursing and how it was going and then I asked her about your meds. But – “ I jerk my head towards him and scowl. “I didn’t say it was about you. Prim thinks it’s for Rye, not you.” He pauses and turns to move the stew from the stove top, sensing that I’m listening to him fully now.

He knows me so well.

“Apparently sometimes when you take the meds in the morning it’s counteractive to what you want. She suggested he – you – try them at night and see if that helps. If not, she said its worth calling Aurelius over, especially if it continues on.”

I let him finish, leaving his words to fill the air as he spoons out our dinner into bowls and joins me at the table. I remain silent for most of the meal, letting the idea of him talking to Prim about me soak in. I don’t like it – not at all.

Our mother’s death was hard on her. She struggled in school, barely making it through the tenth grade while I worked full time. It took a long time for her to move past it and the thought of me going the same way shakes me to the bone. I can’t do that to her. Or Peeta. I just can’t.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta mutters after a while, breaking the silence between us. “I just wanted to help. You just look so tired.”

As I look at him, he keeps his gaze focused on his bowl, his spoon stirring absently. On instinct I reach out and grab at his hand, holding tightly as though he were a lifeline I need to survive. Maybe I do.

“Don’t apologize,” I whisper as my hand squeezes his. “Please don’t let me fail her too.”


	6. Chapter 6

They really tell you not to drink when you’re on the meds I’m on. They tell you on the bottle, at the pharmacy, at the appointment where they ask you if you like to ‘overindulge’. Everywhere they’re telling you ‘don’t drink alcohol while you take this pill’.

But I work at a bar and it’s my first day back and some of our regulars, the people who’ve come in here for years, are dead set on buying me something to loosen me up. I try for the first half of my shift to just ignore it – to brush it off and move down the thick wooden slab that makes up the counter and deal with new people, but eventually I have to work my way back and there they are again, taunting me playfully.

So I give in because I’m tense and because denying them is making it look suspicious and I can’t let anyone know what’s going on. Not really. I can’t see that look in their eyes – poor girl with the mother dead from her own hand, likely going to do it herself. They all will see it as soon as they know and I can’t have that.

It would be too honest. Too close.

The next drink I’m ordered is, thankfully, a soft scotch, one that burns all the way down with every sip. It’s a good burn. One that makes me feel alive even though I’m half numb most of the time.

From down the bar I try to hide the drink as Haymitch reappears from the back room, checking up on me and making nice with the regulars. He knows them well – he’s half drunk himself most of the time and it probably is part of why these guys keep coming back.

“Your girl here, ‘Mitch, she feeling alright? Just convinced her to have her first drink a minute ago!” Chaff, one of Haymitch’s friends from the war, pipes up just as I’m making my way down the bar. I feel my shoulders tense as his words filter through the noise towards me. Not stopping, I ignore him and try to resume the fake smile on my face.

“Yeah, she’s feeling alright. Probably trying to watch her weight or something,” Haymitch returns cockily. I can’t help but scowl into the pint I’m pouring.

“That’ll be five-fifty,” I mumble as I set down the drink. He leaves an even six and I don’t even get to pocket my tip before Haymitch has me by the arm and is leading me into the back room forcefully while motioning for one of the other waitresses to cover the bar.

We pull up short when we enter the walk in refrigerator, the door slamming shut and the overhead light flickering to life above me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Haymitch barks at me. I’m thankful then that he had the restraint to pull me into the sound-proof appliance.

“What are you talking about old man?”

“Drinking! Look, I get – “ My teeth clench at his words and I can’t hold my tongue.

“You don’t know a damn thing –“

“Shut up! Katniss, don’t fool with me. I get what’s going on. I know the signs – half my buddies been through it themselves. I also know that adding this shit to the mix does nothing to get you better. It’s –“ Shouting fiercely at me, Haymitch throws up his arms, motioning around the cooler as his words echo against the solid metal walls. “It’s not good for you. If you can’t help it, maybe you need more time off or something.”

I can’t move. His words have pressed in on me like the cold air around us and I feel my heart sinking. I didn’t want to make him angry – I can’t lose my job. I can’t pay for my pills if I don’t have a job and I can’t do my job if I don’t drink or they’ll know. They’ll know and that will be worse. It will be so much worse than anything else.

“Katniss –“ murmuring, Haymitch grasps for my arm and I startle backwards, my elbow knocking against a bottle of vodka that crashes to the floor.

The glittering of the shards of glass catch my eye and that’s when I realize that I’m crying again, my emotions spilling out of me in a filthy mess as I try to keep it together enough to get away from my boss. I don’t make it far – he catches me by the shoulder and pulls me back in the room, closing the door while he tries to calm me down with apologies and quiet words.

It’s another five minutes before the tears dry up and I’m finally able to meet Haymitch’s eyes.  

“I need –“ my voice is crackly and raw.

“I’m going to call Peeta,” he mumbles under his breath. The blood in my veins spikes and I reach out and grab at him before he can go.

“Don’t! Please!” I beg. We exit the cooler with me still grabbing at his shoulder and trying to stop him from reaching the phone at the bar. “ _Please_ , Haymitch. He doesn’t need to know this. It’s okay. I won’t do it again – I’ll go home and get some rest. It will be fine!” My shout reaches into the crowd and a few faces turn towards us.

Back out front, Haymitch finally turns and meets my eyes, gauging me in his silent way. I try to plead with him silently, begging him to give me this chance. Peeta doesn’t need to know – he was so proud when I left for work today. I swore I could see the small crackle of hope return to his eyes.

“I won’t this time. But do it again and I won’t have much of a choice, got me?” I nod briskly and swipe at my eyes harshly. “Now go home. Call when you get there.” He adds and waves me off, dismissing me without another word.

 I take my time on the walk home, hoping with everything I have that Peeta has already gone to bed and won’t notice me returning earlier than my shift was scheduled to end. It takes twice as long as usual for me to pull myself through the front door and to the kitchen, picking up the phone and dialing the familiar number.

“Hob?” Haymitch’s gruff voice answers.

“I’m home,” I mutter and click the line dead before turning on my heel. I make my way upstairs, flicking off the lights left on for me and head towards my room. Down the hall I hear Peeta in the shower, his horrible singing voice bouncing off the tiles and spilling out into the hallway. He sings happily, a hint of excitement in his words.

The realization makes my heart fall.

This is the first time that he’s sang in the shower since I got sick. The first time he’s actually had a light-hearted moment since everything started and he had to worry about me instead. I can’t take that away from him.

Without taking another step forward I turn and slip back down the hallway pausing only to pull my boots on and leave quietly through the front door. Before I know it I’m crashing through the woods outside my house, walking briskly in the darkness of the trees and trying to breathe through the anxiety that’s piling upon me.

My mind focuses solely on one thought – the idea that I’m ruining Peeta’s life with being sick. Thoughts swirl around, memories zeroing in on all his boyish smiles that he used to reserve just for me. They don’t come out anymore. Instead they’re all more of a grimace, a tight smile with a hint of worry at the edges.

I don’t know how long I walk but I find myself back at the edge of the trees at the end of it, staring back at our house that now has every room lit up like a roaring flame.

He knows. He’s worried. I try not to let it consume me.

“Katniss?” His voice is strained as I walk through the back door and into the kitchen. I meet him halfway silently and wrap my arms around him without another word hoping against hope that my embrace will convey all of the apologies that I can’t voice for him right now.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated posting this chapter up today (or even trashing it altogether) after fuckingplebe published a Freaky Friday Fic yesterday that is amazing and wonderful and somewhat similar which proves we were apparently on the same writing wavelength this week with themes (ie go read it on Tumblr). Anyways, here it is, a small change in rating is required for this so please heed the warning.

"Peeta," I groan aloud only this time it's not in pleasure like expected of me. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. It's not working. _I'm_ not working. It's like I'm broken. I _am_ broken. "Ugh!" I shout out and push at his shoulders until I have enough room to swing my bare legs to the side of the bed. My naked torso curves into my knees and I swipe at my hair until it's pulled back away from my face.

An inhale of a breath and the actuality of the situation comes crashing down. Behind me I can hear Peeta's breathing, tense and struggling to slow. He'd had his hand between my legs, his lips to my collarbone, his hard length had been grinding into my hip. It was the most intimate we'd been in weeks and I just _couldn't_ get through it.

This wasn't the first time. In all the days before the meds I hadn't even wanted to try it, only complying out of guilt which had only compounded said guilt. After the drugs Aurelius had prescribed worked into my system I thought I could give it a go. I'd spent a whole afternoon trying to find bliss and I'd only ended up disappointed.

My body just _didn't want to work_.

And it was fucking pissing me off.

"We don't have to do anything you're not –"

"Shut up!" I jerk around, holding up my hand towards Peeta whose words die on his lips. I make the split moment decision to make sure he finds his end – to ensure that he's okay for everything that he's done for me – and swivel back around on my knees.

In no time I have him on his back, my tongue and lips and breath ghosting down his chest and scraping across his hips. I hear him suck in air above me, his body strained beneath my touch.

"Katniss – " He starts and I nip at his thigh to shut him up. The message gets through clearly when I pull him into my mouth, his thick cock heavy on my tongue. I focus not on my own enjoyment but instead on helping him find his, helping his hand grab at my hair and guide my movements in the way he likes best. My tongue swirls on his tip, tasting and lapping his hot flesh until he's thrusting up into my mouth.

The moans make it worth every moment.

"I'm going to - Katniss – " He struggles to breathe and I lower my mouth as tight as I can, fighting off his attempts to remove me. "Oh, fuck," he groans heartily and I swallow quickly, determined and pressed to help him find his release.

I don't even care that I just used his arousal as a distraction from my own failings. I don't care that at this moment I've realized not only will I never be happy again, I'll also never have that orgasmic bliss I once enjoyed so much. All I care about as I lay my head against his hipbone is that even though I'm broken, I can still help him get off.

I'm not completely useless to him.

I try not to think about the fact that my mouth is apparently my only redeeming quality right now.

After a few moments have passed and his breathing settles, I give in to his clutching hands that force me alongside him. I can't meet his eyes – he'll see everything – so instead I smile meekly and burrow into his ribs.

"That was fun," I murmur against his skin while letting my fingers trace patterns across his chest. He laughs lightly and pulls at my hair until it falls from the mess it was tangled in.

"You didn't get off," he replies carefully, his ministrations on my scalp never ceasing. The only reason I can tell he's cautious is because of the way his stomach tenses despite being relaxed on his back.

"It's okay. It's been a hard week." And it has, I'm not lying. Work has been hard ever since Haymitch sent me home and I ran into the forest. It's not that Haymitch has been busting my balls, it's just that I feel like every move I make I'm being watched for when I fail.

That, and the fact that I can't shake the way Peeta had wrapped himself around me that night I'd returned from the woods. The simple gesture had stuck with me and terrified me like nothing else in this world.

"Katniss, hey," Peeta tries, his hand finding my chin and tilting it towards his face. "What's really going on?"

Of course he knows. I sometimes hate that he sees me so clearly.

"It's stupid." I try lamely. _Please let him drop it. Please._

"No – it's not. We're in this together."

"I can't... It's not... I can't come!" I shout with frustration, rolling away so I don't have to look at him. There's a pregnant pause between us, one where not even the bed moves with our tense frames, before he rolls up against my back and wraps his arm around my waist.

"That's it?" He whispers against my neck, his lips brushing the tender skin there. Slowly, his hand begins a steady circle on my stomach, soothing and careful and soft. "Maybe it's the meds. Maybe it'll go away. Tell me about what you feel and maybe I can help make it better."

It's the whisper of those last words that gets me, a hearty laugh breaking free of me. "You can try, smooth talker, but it says in the literature that the drugs can sometimes decrease the libido."

"But what do you _feel_? When you try?"

"I feel... The build. You know I do. I feel the burn of your hands when they touch my skin – " I have to clench my legs together as his palm slides from my breast towards the apex of my thighs deliberately. "I get wet when you touch me _there_ ," gasping, I buck into his hand.

We've been here before. I won't deny it – I can feel this happen and it feels good. I let it feel good for as long as I can, describing how it feels through my body as he slips his fingers past my folds and inside me. Words almost fail me when his teeth bite at my shoulder and pull lightly at the skin.

The heat is there. It's right _there_ and I can feel it. But just as quick as it builds it starts to retract, slipping from between my fingers and drifting away.

"Tell me Katniss, are you close?" His words burn against me and I try harder, pushing his hand away and working at myself roughly. He replaces his palm over the back of my hand and presses himself until he's flush against me and his breathing is hot and wet against my neck.

"I just – I'm – " I press on my nub and tense up, the break of an orgasm right _there_ and then it's _gone_. I feel my insides flutter as though finding release but the peak of it all – the _high_ – is nowhere to be found. It's fruitless, this beast I was chasing. "Fuck!" I shout out loud and hit my fist against the mattress. Slowly I feel Peeta rub at my core, his lips marking a trail along my skin as he attempts to draw out _something_. "Just stop," I grumble and pull his hand away, moving my body away from his again.

Without hesitating I slide out of the bed and angrily grab a robe from the closet, tying it around my waist and stalking towards the bathroom and closing the door. Behind me I hear Peeta's heavy gait following me and it takes all the slim control I have left not to shout when I tell him that I just need to be alone.

"But Katniss – you don't have to be alone, it's okay," Peeta calls from his spot in the hallway where I know he's likely standing buck naked still. The thought at any other time would be funny to me but all I feel right now is failure and anger coiling tightly within me.

It's that feeling that has me pulling open the door and staring at him with his measured facial expression. The calmness only manages to infuriate me more and I can't take his coddling anymore. I can't take the way he has been babying me about all of this. I can't.

"Peeta, I'm not going to fucking kill myself tonight so please just leave me the hell alone for one goddamn hour!" I snap and slam the door in his face.

Immediately, I know that my words have been a low blow. I shouldn't have said them and I regret them fiercely.

But I know I can't take them back. I _need_ some space tonight. I need to be able to find my own way out of this. I need – I need to make sure I can do it on my own, _just in case_.

"I just want you to know I still love you," Peeta murmurs from the other side of the door. I hear his footsteps move down the hallway and I crack, pulling the door open an inch.

"I still love you too, Peeta."

I know it's not enough but it's what I can give tonight before shutting the door between us once again.


	8. Chapter 8

“Get up!” Prim shouts from the doorway to my room. Her voice startles me since I’m still lying in bed, too busy debating whether to crawl out from the warm cocoon of covers I’d made after Peeta left for work. “It’s been too long. I know you’ve given up on your workouts Katniss but dammit that doesn’t mean you get to avoid me. I’m your sister! Now _get... Up_!”

The blankets are yanked from around me, the spare pillows bumping against the side table and knocking things to the floor. I simply move to curl up tighter, pulling my pillow over my head and trying to drown her out.

“Go away, I’m tired,” I groan. Last night had been another nearly sleepless night and getting up at six in the morning was just not something on my to do list for the day.

I think I’ve finally brushed her off when the room goes quiet. Taking a peek, I reach my arm out towards the blanket and grab onto something fleshy and warm. Prim. I pull my arm back quickly and rip the pillow from my face, my blurring eyes trying to focus in on her form as she picks up pills off the floor.

“Prim,” I whisper, too afraid to say anything more for fear of what she’ll say to me. I’ve lied to her. I haven’t told her what’s going on. She’s going to hate me. I close my eyes tightly trying to control my breathing as she finishes her task without a word.

It seems to take forever.

And then her arms are around me, wrapping tightly against my neck and squeezing the breath from my lungs.

“Kat, why didn’t you tell me?” She moans into my shoulder as her hands grapple at my shirt. I remain still, my body tense as her words surprise me.

“You’re not mad?” It’s quietly ashamed, a faint sound compared to my usual tone.

Prim pulls back immediately and meets my gaze, her eyes searching mine, for what I don’t know. “Of course I’m not mad. I didn’t know – I just... I can help, this is what I do – Kat, you don’t have to do this by yourself.”

Without hesitating I pull her back into a hug, hiding my face and the threat of tears in her neck. We sit like that for a long while, her plans for a morning run abandoned.

“I _knew_ it wasn’t about Rye,” she hisses later as we head down stairs for some breakfast. “It just didn’t make sense – damn Peeta for lying to me!”

“Don’t be mad at him. He got enough from me when I thought he’d told you,” I mutter, grabbing a loaf of bread and some eggs to start a meager breakfast. I let Prim ramble on quietly to herself as I go about the motions, every so often cutting in with an answer for her about what I’m experiencing. It’s far from a medical conversation over breakfast and I’m glad for that since it’s not what I need right now.

Afterwards, Prim helps me with the dishes and then loops her arm through mine, holding me close for another minute.

“Let’s go for a run, just to get some air,” she insists. I look at her as though she’s sprouted another head, her words surprising me – how could she possibly think I’d be up for a run right now? All I wanted to do was go back to bed before work. “We’ll run to the bakery and back, get a treat while we’re there. I’m sure Peeta would love it.”

I turn over the idea slowly, gauging the benefits of the run versus how much I want to go lay down. They’re startlingly close and I can’t help the frown that creases my brow when I realize just how much I don’t want to do anything at all ever again.

“Katniss it’ll be _good for you_. I know these things – it’s why you worked so hard to get me through school, remember?” Prim pushes eagerly and for a moment I think she can see through the cracks that the depression has created in me. She can see _me_ , even under the hard shell I’ve created. 

“Fine. But only to the bakery. I don’t think I could make our 10k today – “ I barely finish my reply before Prim is bouncing excitedly, almost as though I’ve just told her she could have a puppy. It’s surreal – not an hour ago we were sitting in the dark trying to cope with my diagnosis and now she’s acting as though it doesn’t matter in the least.

It’s that thought that catches me unprepared and makes me pause as I stand grabbing for my sports bra.

Maybe it _doesn’t_ matter. Maybe this whole thing would just be easier if I pretended like it doesn’t exist.

For the first time in weeks, months, I feel a surge of energy burn through me and I pull on my running gear with a new found excitement.  When I’m ready, I head downstairs and join Prim in the front hall where she’s carefully stretching out her quads.

“Good?” She asks brightly, handing me my aged iPod with its running mix already playing. I nod and crack a smile, putting in the ear buds and tucking the device into a back pocket. We head out the door and start our easy pace on the street, looping around a few extra blocks on our way to the bakery. Halfway there I feel the burn in my muscles, the tiredness in my lungs and my aches returning as though the energy has sapped from within me. I press on, determined to pass through this stage and just make it to our destination without giving up.

Rounding the final corner, Prim taps my shoulder and motions our signal for a final sprint, something we used to do when we were younger. I nod despite the way my legs are burning and without warning she takes off like a bolt.

I try, desperately, to pick up the pace but I just _can’t_. My legs shake and my gait stumbles as I see the bakery in the distance. When I nearly crash to the ground I give up the run and settle for a walking pace, my hands on my hips as I struggle to breathe.

“You’re scowling!” Prim yells from out front of the bakery. I can feel the scowl on my face only intensify as my mood sinks.

“I’m terrible,” I gasp when I finally arrive at the front door. Hunching over, I grab at my knees and struggle to take in air, hoping that nobody has seen my failed attempt at running.

Not a moment after my arrival Peeta bursts onto the street, wrapping me up tightly and pressing a kiss to my sweaty brow.

“Hey gorgeous,” he whispers into my ear. I push him away lightly and try to wipe the sweat off of my face.

“Ugh, don’t get too close I’m a disaster,” I groan wearily.

“Only makes you better,” he quips and together we all step into the bakery where Peeta seats us down and liberates some pastries from the display for us. I scarf mine down in record time, the delicious sugar bringing my taste buds to life as I watch Prim slowly pick away at hers in between meaningless rambles that pass from her lips.

I try to focus on the conversation, providing the appropriate hums and ahs that she requires to continue on, but I’m easily distracted by watching Peeta behind the counter. He works effortlessly on the exposed work counter, decorating the display cakes in between helping customers at the till. Every so often he’ll throw me a crooked smile, one that he saves just for me.

Until I see him turn that smile towards a customer. A blonde, beautiful, customer who looks eerily familiar. I watch, my shoulders tense, as he banters with her and shows her _my_ crooked smile. I try to ignore the jealously burning in me but I can’t. Especially not when I realize that it’s the same woman I saw last time I was here – the same hand reaching out and grasping his forearm as he passes over the loaf of bread she’s requested.

It makes me ill, watching the exchange. “Can we go?” I ask Prim carefully, trying to avoid any suspicion.

“Sure.” Together we return our plates and I disappear out the door while she bids goodbye to Peeta. “Hey – aren’t you going to –“

I don’t catch her last words – I already knew what they would be and I don’t want to talk about it – instead I take off running, heading towards home and making it there a lot faster than I had making it to the bakery.

Climbing out of the shower afterwards, I hear Prim on the phone downstairs, talking quickly into the receiver. I know without even having to ask that she’s talking to Peeta. She even gives me a _look_ when I come downstairs in my casual clothes, pressing at my hair with a towel.

“Why’d you just take off like that?” Prim asks after clicking the end button on the phone. I shrug and fill a glass with water from the sink.

“I wanted to get home before my energy disappeared,” I lie easily. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want to think about it.

“Peeta was wondering why you didn’t say goodbye. He was worried,” Prim adds carefully. I shrug again and try to brush off the anger that’s pooling in my belly.

If my instincts were right, that woman from the bakery had more than just a customer-type interest in Peeta. The worst part was that he was _returning_ her affections. With _my_ crooked smile. Right _in front of me_.

He was giving up on me. I’d seen it. I couldn’t deny it. I was broken and he was moving on to another woman so he didn’t have to deal with me and my stupid mood swings and my stupid depression and my broken body.

I was going to be alone.

I –

“Katniss, hey,” Prim calls to me. I open my eyes to see her standing before me, her left hand cupping my elbow while her right hand brushes tears from my cheeks. “What’s going on?” She soothes and guides me over towards the couch.

I thought today was going to be a good day. I’d gotten out of bed. I’d gone for a run and been okay. Now I was crashing again – when would these goddamn drugs start to finally work? When would I be _normal_ again?

Sitting down roughly, I huff out a breath and look across the room away from where Prim is sitting patiently.

The words spill forth from me without her even having to prompt. All of my fears about our mother, about me, everything with the way I’ve been treating Peeta and how he must be moving on. All of it in one go just bursting out in a thick wave of emotion. Prim listens silently all the while, only her hand on my knee as a sign of support.

When it is done, when I don’t have anything left, she leans back and smiles towards me.

“Kat – I know this might not make sense, but the way you’re feeling right now matters. You’re sick and what you’re experiencing is impacted by your illness. For you it seems so much worse – that’s the sick part inside of you making it seem that way. But you’re okay, really, and you’ll continue to be okay, as long as you keep doing what you’re doing. Keep taking you medications, keep talking to your doctor,” she pauses for a second, judging whether to say what she wants to say. “You’re not like mom. Not even close.”

It’s a whisper but it crashes into me like a wall.

My biggest fear. I just _can’t_ be like her.

“You’ll be okay after all of this and trust me on this part because I know you won’t listen – Peeta is _not_ leaving you. Not even for a second would I believe that. So just stop being fucking stupid about it – okay?” Her last words catch me off guard and I finally look at her as she calls me out on my bullshit fear.

I know somewhere inside of me Peeta isn’t leaving me but my mind keeps whipping it up into something that’s real and worrisome. Logically it doesn’t make sense but the fear of it all keeps grabbing at me and forcing me to react stupidly. I can’t help it. I don’t know _how_ to help it.

“Ugh, Prim,” I grumble, reaching forward and pulling her into a tight embrace. In all honesty I’m not sure how I thought not telling her would be a good idea. This morning alone she’s calmed me down and brought out parts of the old me that I hadn’t seen in a while. The parts I missed. “Thank you,” I mumble into her collar. She simply laughs and tells me that’s what sisters are for.


	9. Chapter 9

“Fuck, yes. Yes,” I groan, my head pressed into the pillow as I brace myself to the pressure of Peeta’s thrusts. They smack hard against my skin, our sweat mingling together as he leans against me and bites my shoulder sharply.

“Kat,” he grunts, his breath hot in my ear. I can feel how close he is, how tight my own muscles are becoming as they squeeze around and against him.

It’s the first time we’ve had sex, _real productive sex_ , since my depression started.

“Don’t stop!” I chant loudly and let my panting grunts escape from where they’ve hidden in my chest for too long. I revel in how his hands grip my hips, pulling my ass back towards him and dragging me backwards with him until I’m sitting facing forward in his lap and he’s pushing up into me. The new angle makes me keen, especially when his fingers slip down into my folds and he finds my nub.

“Peeta!” I scream, jolting at the sensation. His other arm wraps around my waist and he grunts harshly until his body jerks and freezes against and within mine. I don’t even feel him finish inside me, too wrapped up in my own orgasm to realize that we’ve both crested the peak we have been climbing.

It’s been _so long_.

I feel like crying. Sitting here with him softening inside me as my walls slowly spasm around him.

I’ve never been closer to him.

“What?” He whispers, nuzzling into my neck.

“Huh?” My mind is elsewhere. I’m too busy with the feel of his skin beneath my fingers.

“You said something – hey, Katniss, hey?” Worry lines his words and I feel his gaze upon me. The realization hits me then that I actually _am_ crying but I don’t really know _why_. “What’s going on?” Moving from his place inside my body he slips out of me and shifts away making my emptiness more apparent. Coming to sit before me I try desperately to pull it together, shoving it all back down in an attempt to not ruin the best sex I’ve had in months, but it bubbles up inside of me and I have to fight myself.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I reassure him, brushing my tears from my cheeks and pressing a kiss against his lips. He doesn’t reciprocate at first, likely unsure of what my mood is doing right now. I don’t blame him. Not since I started my birth control pills have I cried after sex. And right now... “Peeta, it’s fine. I just got a little carried away.”

He watches me move from the bed and pull a blanket around myself before he sits back on his legs.

“You’re not lying to me?” He says carefully, evenly. I eye him, his words giving away a boyish vulnerability that I haven’t heard from him since we last spoke about his history with his mother.

“Oh, Peeta,” I whimper and the tears return as I move back to the bed and wrap myself around him blanket and all. There aren’t any words that help me in this moment, nothing I can say that would repair the damage that has been done to us by my sickness. All I can do right now is hold him and try to desperately convey the love and the need that I have for him.

* * *

Later, when the sweat has dried and our muscles have softened, we lay entwined together amongst the sheets and the pillows that were recklessly scattered from earlier. His head lay against my breast, his warm breaths gracing my skin rhythmically and soothing my rampant soul. Leisurely I’ll ghost my fingers through his hair and tug at the small curls on the nape of his neck. His hand will squeeze my waist tighter at this and I can feel the smile grow upon his lips.

When only the glow of the clock remains as the light in our room, Peeta shifts and tightens where his leg is nestled between mine. Subtly, his body tenses and I feel his mouth open against me before he shuts it again. I don’t prompt him – I know he wants to say something – instead I let him pick his words as he always likes.

“Katniss,” he starts after a moment. I hum my acknowledgement but say no more. “Is this,” sucking in a quick breath his fingers clench into my hip tightly. As though he’s afraid I’ll run away or disappear from him. “Is this how it’s going to be forever?”

His words paralyze me.

Forever?

This? Am I going to be broken forever? Will I spend my days torturing him, worrying him, loving him while destroying him? I don’t know.

Not really.

I don’t know.

I can’t promise him it won’t be like this for forever.

I expect the words to rush out of me. I expect them to pour from my lips in a tangled webbed mess like they are all strung up in my head.

But they don’t. They freeze in my throat and I choke on them until my body is starving for oxygen and I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Is this for forever?” Not what I thought I’d say but still true none the less. The doubt is there. The knowing that I should let him go is there as well. Can I keep him with me if this is how it will be? I don’t deserve him. He doesn’t deserve this.

“I’m going to stay, even if it is. I just don’t know how to –“

“If you need to go, Peeta,” I interrupt and sit up slightly.

As though burned, he flies up from where he had lain against my chest and stares are me with something I can’t quite understand. “That is not even a possibility.” His tone is firm, his lips tight.

“I just – I don’t know how it’s going to go. I don’t know if this is how it is for me now. I hope not, but I don’t know. And, and I’d rather if you need to go – I’d rather – “ I start mumbling the end but the words don’t come out clearly, or really at all. The jumbled mess of my giving him an out never makes it into the air because Peeta places his lips over my own and kisses me until I can’t breathe.

“Don’t push me away. Don’t tell me to go. I love you. I will always be in love with you. I want to marry you and I want you to have my children if that’s what you want. This, right now? Even if it doesn’t pass I will still be here because you are the only thing I want in this world.” Pausing, he pulls back from his whispered speech against my lips and smiles down at me as his stomach grumbles. “Okay, maybe I want a few other things, like dinner.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things that I'm experimenting with here is just writing flashes. I hope you don't mind, I'm not really attempting a truly formatted story. I'm exploring the theme and the characters and hopefully that isn't a terrible idea for you all (who are amazing by the way for your lovely reviews).
> 
> Anyways, yes, this may seem familiar. I'm hoping that by revisiting these topics people will understand the constant need to affirmation that comes with depression, especially when a loved one is involved. Not only does the person with depression often feel worthless and horrible, but they also strongly feel burdensome to those who love them. Relationships are incredibly difficult when depression is involved because you're often navigating unfamiliar waters while also struggling to maintain consistency in the relationship. There's also the factors of doubt and trust which can level a partnership with just a few words. Okay enough blabbing. Hope you enjoy and if you feel the need, come join me on Tumblr at lollercakesff.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've experienced depression, you might know what this is like. As someone who has slipped into it after being highly active for a long period of time, it's interesting to combine your old routines back into your life, especially if they involved another person.

I wake up before Peeta, rolling over onto my back and stretching my legs long against the mattress. He stirs, his arm searching until his fingers land upon my arm and his searching ends. I smile over at him, comforted by the fact that all he needed to steady himself in sleep was the simple touch of my skin against his.

Glancing at the clock I read the bleary red five a.m. lights. Soon he’ll be waking up and off to another day at the bakery, another day where I’ll fend for myself until later this evening when I’ll slip off to work.

The thought isn’t appealing. Not really.

I spend the next half hour wondering how I can make the day go by quicker. I make lists in my head of things I’ll do: I’ll call Prim and go for a run, I’ll get some shopping done, and maybe clean the kitchen. Things I’ve been meaning to do for weeks but just haven’t been able to get up the energy to do.

“Hey,” Peeta murmurs huskily, startling me out of my thoughts. I turn to him with a soft smile in the dark and reach out to stop the alarm before it starts. “You’re up early.” I nod and scoot a little closer into his outstretched arms, nuzzling at his shoulder while he hums at me.

“I was thinking about what to do today,” I say softly against his chest. His arms squeeze around me slightly and I can almost feel the smile beaming from him.

“That’s good. Anything exciting I should skip work for?” The words are laced with tired joking, the laughter light in the early morning hours. I sneak a look up at him and waggle my eyebrows suggestively before he laughs a bone shaking guffaw. “Okay – anything else? I don’t think I’m allowed to skip for _just_ that.”

“Ah, then nope. I was going to call Prim and see if she wanted to go for a run.” If I could ever leave the warmth and comfort of being here in Peeta’s arms.

“You should do that then. Speaking of running, it’s late, love,” Peeta whispers and before he pulls away he presses a slow kiss to my lips. “I’ll see you this afternoon?”

“I’ll go start breakfast. See you in twenty.”

Instead of curling back into the covers I pull myself from the bed and stagger downstairs and into the kitchen. It’s been a long while since I had then energy to do this consciously and not just in the haze of the motions. Staking out a plan I move into action and begin poaching some eggs and burning some toast, pulling out the butter and slathering it on each piece. When Peeta enters the kitchen his smile is wide, his eyes bright and his hair still damp from the shower. I smile at him again, this one bright and matching his, before slipping into a seat at the table.

We eat in comfortable near quiet, the only sounds being those of our forks hitting the plates. When Peeta slides back and moves to place his dishes in the sink, I watch him until he returns and pecks his lips against my forehead quickly.

“I’m glad you’ve got a plan,” he mumbles and pulls away before I can say anything else.

Once he’s gone I busy myself in the kitchen for the next while, cleaning the dishes and putting everything in its place. When I’m done I don’t hesitate before picking up the phone and calling Prim, my toe tapping as it rings on the other end.

“Prim here,” she quips into the phone, surprising me with her groggy abruptness.

“Prim? It’s Katniss...” I hear a shuffle on the other end, a deeper voice grumbling as my sister rustles the sheets of her bed.

“Katniss? What’re you doing up at this hour?” She hisses as though she’s whispering. I can just picture her now as she was when we were younger, curled up on the edge of the bed and whispering into the phone as though it was more private that way.

“I um – I was wondering if maybe, um...” I pause, not sure whether I should intrude on her morning any further. “Oh, nevermind. You’ve got –“

“What is it, Kat?” She interrupts and her voice is softer, more focused.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry,” I insist as my nerves rile. I’m starting to second guess myself now, so out of the loop on life that I’d just expected her to be at my beck and call for when I came back to life.

 _Of course_ she moved on with things while I was down. That’s what people do.

“Don’t jerk me around, Katniss. Tell me what’s up,” Prim demands from the other end of the line and I’m snapped out of my self-doubt by the commanding tone of her voice. She’s using the tone I’d always used with my mother when I couldn’t get her to come back around to us.

I’m not my mother.

The thought stings.

“I wanted to go for a run. But you’ve got someone there. It was rude of me to call, I’m sorry!” I bark into the phone and place it on the dock effectively hanging up on her. I know as soon as the call has ended that that was probably one of the most childish things I’ve done in a really long while. I know for sure it’s bound to make her wonder about my sanity, but the way she’d demanded things from me – this was my baby sister. How dare she try to pull rank on me?

Huffing to myself I march into the living room and sit heavily down on the couch with my arms crossed. I try to avoid thinking about how my morning has soured, how I could have found other reasons to keep Peeta at home to keep me company, when the phone rings. I see the display pop up with ‘Primrose Everdeen’ and I scowl.

“Yes?” I snap into the line.

“Don’t you dare do that to me ever again Katniss Everdeen!” Prim hiccups into the phone. I can hear her soft sniffles on the other end of the line and my heart clenches in my chest. Why is she _crying_?

“Prim?” My voice softens significantly. My sweet sister, what have I done?

“Don’t hang up on me! You know who used to do that!”

Mom used to do that.

“Oh, Prim, I’m sorry.” My heart sinks. I was more like my mother than I thought. The idea only makes my mood sink more.

“Listen, Kat. I’m getting my gear on. Be ready in fifteen for our run, okay?” She doesn’t let me finish feeling bad, instead opting to force me to refocus my thoughts and bounce back to the plan I’d started out with. I mutter an agreement and hang up, running upstairs to get my own gear ready for our run.

By the time Prim arrives I’m already sitting on the porch, watching the squirrels in the early morning light of the yard. She doesn’t even stop her jog in front of my house, instead waving me down and making me catch up to her. The action is all too familiar, pulling me back to before I got sick.

Two miles in I’m feeling my body slip back into the motion of the run, my body starting to burn and my heart starting to pump quicker than it has in months. It feels good to exhaust myself like this, refreshing almost.

By mile four though I’m tiring quickly and I start leading us on the shortcut back to the house. Prim follows easily, not questioning my actions or calling me out on bailing on our run so early.

It’s not until I’m home and filling up water glasses for us both that either one of us even mentions anything about this morning. I’m not the first to break either, I leave that to Prim who’s never been good at staying quiet.

“What was up this morning?” She asks plainly, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down. I follow her movements, joining her and sighing as I run a hand across my face.

“I don’t know – I guess when I heard that you, uh... had someone over, that maybe I was, I don’t know...” I shrug and look away, nervous to admit how it had felt to be replaced. Prim _never_ used to be the one bailing on our runs – she used to always be the one kicking _my_ butt out of bed in the morning.

I know when I meet her eyes again though that my answer hasn’t been enough for her.

“I thought like I was intruding on your life – okay?” I blurt out at the scowl on her face. It instantly softens at my words, though her eyes remain honest.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She asks carefully. I nod and clasp my hands together, staring instead at my knuckles rather than at her. “And if I’m here, would you say that you’re being a bother?” I shake my head no, choosing to remain silent again. “Katniss, I know this is hard. I can’t say I know what you’re feeling but I know something about what might be going through your head. Even on days like today where you start second guessing yourself, please remember that you’re my sister and that you are always important to me. No matter what, okay?”

Even though I know her words are true, much like Peeta’s constant reminders are true, it still fights my instincts to believe it’s real. I know that’s the depression in me. I know it because that’s what the books I’ve been reading and what the doctor has been telling me during my bi-weekly check ins. It’s still hard though, to take these words at face value and not doubt myself and the people I love.

But today I force myself to push on, meeting Prim’s steady gaze head on.

“I’m trying,” I state quietly. Prim nods and reaches across the table for my hand before I meet her halfway.

“I know you are. And I love you for it,” her eyes spark slightly and her smile returns in full force. “Now, what are we getting up to today? It’s my day off.”  


	11. Chapter 11

“Katniss, are you almost ready to go?” Peeta calls from downstairs. I can tell he’s in the front hall, likely pacing, as I try to braid my hair quicker. I just am not running on schedule today at _all_. It didn’t help that Peeta caught me up in the shower earlier.

Okay, honestly that did help.

But it also set us back for about twenty minutes from the dinner date we’d planned with some of our friends.

I _could_ blame it all on the sex. Really, I could. But I know that somewhere the little nagging feeling inside that had been clawing at me for the past few months was just struggling to take control again. This was the first time I’d even been out to be social with our friends since the whole thing started and I was nervous.

Okay, another stretch of the truth. I was scared. I’d even tried to bail out of it earlier in the day with typical ‘forgetfulness’ and complaints of a headache. Peeta though, he could see through every white lie I told.

“How nervous are you for this?” He asked quietly, grasping for my hand as we walked the distance to Finnick Odair’s house. The words lodged in my throat, unsure of whether to tell the whole truth or whether to mask it in an effort to just get through the night without going off my rocker again.

“Um, maybe a bit. It’ll be okay though – right? They’re our friends,” I murmured, more to myself than to him in an effort to reassure. That’s at least what I’d been telling myself earlier as I pulled on the sunset orange dress that Peeta loved.  “How bad could it be?”

Peeta laughed lightly and squeezed my hand quickly.

“It’ll be fine. Just let me know if you want to leave though, okay? We don’t have to get in over our heads just yet.”

 _We_. _Our_. Peeta spoke as though this was both of us. I still couldn’t get past it, not how understanding he was being or how he was adjusting. It almost seemed as though every little change didn’t phase him at all. Sure, we’d had our bumps early on, but now that I was making progress and actually starting to resume my life, it was as though the bumps had never happened and nothing was different.

“I love you,” I whisper to him quickly as we round the street corner and approach Finnick’s house. He merely glances at me and then strides down the sidewalk as though there isn’t a care in his mind.

As we stand on the step to the house I realize that the night air is doing nothing to calm my sweaty palms and the nerves that are strung tight like wires in my body. I shuffle side to side as we wait until the door is swung open and a young woman I don’t recognize beckons us in.

“Please, come inside. I’m just taking Adrian out of the way for the evening. I’m Cassie, by the way – the sitter?” The girl, Cassie, rambles on as she picks up toys and tosses them into a shoulder bag she’s toting. Peeta and I follow her into the house tentatively, hearing the sounds of a child’s wailing echoing down the hallway.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Peeta calls out and Cassie laughs as she bounds up the stairs.

“No! Please, I’ll be out of here in a minute Mr Odair should be back any –“

“You made it!” I hear Finnick boom from behind me causing me to jump slightly and drop Peeta’s hand. I spin around to face him and take in his handsomely dishevelled hair, the rising colour in his cheeks and the bags of ice in his hands as he holds them up towards us. “I thought maybe you’d cancel, but it’s so great to see you two!” He talks quickly, stepping forward and pulling us both into a strong hug. I try to relax despite how the bag of ice he holds in his left hand rubs against the skin of my back.

“Uh – Finn – “ Peeta rumbles, pulling back and grabbing the ice from his grip while placing the bag of goods we brought on the floor. “Go help Annie with whatever’s going on, we’ll get things settled down here, okay?” It’s only after Finnick steps back and nods do I recognize the bleary look in his eyes and how strained his features are.

“Ade’s just been having a hard time lately –“ he starts to explain before Peeta brushes him off.

“No worries, we’ll work on things here. Don’t worry about it.” Before he has another moment to talk, Peeta steers me away towards the kitchen and I’m finally able to let out a calming breath after the chaos of entering the house.

“I thought they were easier when they got older?” I mutter quietly and place the ice into the freezer. Peeta laughs, pulling the plates down from the cupboards and the cutlery from the drawer as though this was his own house.

“Adrian is two, Katniss. The Terrible Two’s. That’s just what they do. Can you grab the wine and glasses?” I pause as he begins to set the table, leaning over and giving me a nice view of the way his slacks stretch over his butt. “Earth to Katniss,” Peeta calls, laughing as I jump and meet his eyes. “Wine. Glasses. Stop ogling.”

Turning away as the heat creeps up my face, I return to the hallway and pick up our bag of bread and wine before a knock comes at the door. Glancing back to the kitchen I bite my lip and step forward to pull it open. Friendly faces greet me brightly on the other side as Delly and her partner, Thom, enter the house without invitation.

“Katniss!” Delly squeals loudly in my ear as she pulls me into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so glad to see you!”

Somewhere beyond the ringing in my ears I hear Thom mutter something of the same before he disappears into the kitchen with both his own bag and the one I was sent here to get. He knows without even having to say it that I’m in for a verbal run down of the most recent gossip from the one person in town who seems to know everything.

Plastering on a smile, I listen absently as Delly exclaims loudly about the relationship news that I’ve been missing. I try to nod and laugh at all the right places but I quickly find myself struggling to keep up with her fast paced words and her tonal changes that give me whiplash.

“Dells, come on,” Madge thankfully interrupts, stepping through the partially opened door with her partner Lilith. I smile at her ruefully and she nods, grasping Delly’s shoulder and motioning us all into the kitchen where Thom and Peeta have made themselves at home at the table with the bottle of wine.

“Friends!” Finnick shouts from behind us, the sound of Adrian’s cries instantly disappearing as the front door closes.

“Where’s An – “

“Here! I’m here!” Annie shouts and bustles through the group until she’s pulling each of us into an embrace. The flurry of activity jostles me around and sets my nerves on edge, forcing me back against the counter where my hands grip the stone until my knuckles are surely white.  “Katniss,” Annie whispers quietly when she finally moves to embrace me. I try not to flinch though my muscles remain firm and my posture unmoveable.

“Hey Annie,” I hear Peeta beside me, feeling his hand slip over mine and pull my fingers lose.

“Peeta!” Stepping back from me Annie turns to him and grabs him up in his own tight hug. “So glad you two came, we missed you these past few weeks.”

“Missed you guys too,” he answers and releases her to greet the rest of her guests. “On a scale of one to ten?” He asks me lowly while his thumb brushes over the back of my hand.

“Eight?” The whisper squeaks out of me, my eyes flipping to his briefly before he moves us over to the table where Thom is still leisurely sitting with the bottle of wine already tipped over my glass.

“How’ve you been, Miss Katniss?” He rumbles from his spot across the table before he pushes a glass of wine towards me. My fingers grip the stem tightly and I lift it to my lips for a big gulp, desperate to steady my nerves.

“Oh, I’ve been,” I joke and set down my wine. Thom nods in silent understanding and I take the opportunity to watch as Peeta pulls my wine away from me with a sheepish smile. “How have you two been?”

“We moved in together a few weeks ago. Finally bit the bullet and ditched my apartment. Was thinking about having you two over but – “

“Let’s eat while it’s still hot!” Annie interrupts from across the room, spinning around and grabbing at the oven mitts that sit next to the stove. I watch the bodies shift and move to their seats at the table, my mind half distracted by what Thom was going to say and his hesitation. “Make room! Make room!”

My chair is jerked to the side, my body being shifted next to Peeta’s as he wraps an arm around my shoulder and let’s Finnick place the large tray of lasagna on the table before us. I chance a glance at the people surrounding me, the happy conversation that bubbles throughout the table as old friends catch up on what they’ve been missing.

I take another gulp of my wine and feel Peeta’s hand squeeze on my shoulder.

Why am I nervous? Why do I feel like crawling out of my own skin?

The anxiety or the blush or the alcohol or the timid embarrassment creeps up my face and I duck my head towards my lap to avoid anyone’s stare.

I keep my gaze averted until my plate is returned to its place before me loaded up with salad, lasagna and Peeta’s fresh bread. It looks delicious, but I’m not hungry. Not with the way my stomach turns and my nerves frazzle.

“Katniss, how’s old Haymitch doing?” Lilith asks from across the table. I finally look up, my mouth full of salad, and meet her piercing gaze.

“He’s doing well, still alive at least,” Peeta answers quickly for me. Below the table I feel his hand on my knee.

Why can’t I spit out a few words?

This dinner is not going well.

I’m not me.

What’s wrong with me? I’ve been doing so well. Now I can’t even have a conversation? I can’t even look at people without this cloud coming back and hovering over me?

Fuck.

Shoving back from the table I barely register my chair scraping on the floor before I bolt from the room. In the hallway I struggle to breathe, my chest tight and the anxiety making me hyperventilate as I hear the hushed murmurs from the dinner table I’d left behind so abruptly.

The panic overtakes me as the embarrassment with myself and my behaviour rolls in like a boulder. Gripping to the handrail of the staircase I lean over and put my head between my knees and try to hold in the tears that burn at the back of my eyes.

“Kat?” The voice startles me, so unexpected as it pulls me from the haze. I thought it would be Peeta to come and take me home. “Hey, let’s go upstairs and take a second.” Finnick stands close to me, offering his hand but also seemingly tense and ready to catch me as though I should faint at any moment.

When I’m able to stand up straight again I realize that Finnick is going nowhere anytime soon. “Okay,” I whisper in resignation and lead our way upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to have the other part of this up by the end of the week. I was missing you all though, so I thought I'd post something in celebration of the trailer today.


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing Finnick does when he gets me behind closed doors is pull me in against his chest for a bone crushing hug. He holds there tightly, his cheek pressed against my head until my shoulders release and my body seems to crumble underneath his embrace. He doesn’t let go, not even when my breathing begins to wobble and the tears squeak out from behind my clenched eyelids.

I don’t cry, not really.

Instead I give in to the comfort he’s providing and return the embrace with my arms around his hips.

“You’re like a little sister to me sometimes, Kat,” he says into my ear. I guffaw throatily into his chest and begin to pull back just slightly before I’m met with resistance. “Nope, not yet. One more minute.”

When the moment passes and the audible sounds of dinner returning to normal float upstairs to us, we finally pull apart and move to sit on the bed. I pick absently at the comforter, the small tuffs of yarn remaining strong under my nervous fingers.

“Peeta called me, the night you didn’t come home?” He says it as a question, as though he wasn’t sure of its truth or whether it was something more. I nod forcing a sigh out of him. “He was so worried that night. He wanted to call the police, to go out in the forest looking for you. He apologized a lot too for telling me, saying he didn’t want you to know that he’d told me because he was worried you’d overreact or something – “

“I wish he hadn’t told you,” I interject while keeping my eyes averted. Despite how close Finnick and I are, this discussion is no less embarrassing than talking to Aurelius about my problems.

“You didn’t come home, Kat. That, and with your mom...” His words seem to catch in his throat and his hand finds mine on the comforter. “Annie,” he starts and falters.

I didn’t want to see his truth. I had to.

Looking up at him, meeting his eyes, I can see the pain that was there and the fear of the memory that haunts him.

“After Adrian was born it was hard. We, uh, Annie, had a set back and had to check into the clinic for a few days,” he pauses and in that moment I turn my hand over in his until I’m gripping tightly to him. “She was sick too. And the clinic really helped her until she could get back on track. She’s okay now, she has her good days and her bad, but I get what Peeta is dealing with and I don’t want you guys to feel alone. I spoke with Annie and if you want, you guys can talk or not or whatever. Just, remember you’re not alone, okay?”

I feel the familiar tug of affection in me at his words and I pull him into another hug, holding him tightly. His confession stuns me a little – I’d always known Annie had a few quirks of her own but I’d never realized the extent. I’m curious but I won’t dare ask, especially not as I sit here in the comfort of this room after being saved from an emotional catastrophe while I realize that Finnick is a better friend than I ever was. Pulling back, I meet his gaze and grip his hand tightly in mine.

“I’m sorry – for not realizing and being there for you guys. I didn’t know but – “

“God, no. Kat, no. Annie didn’t want anyone to know and she was so embarrassed about it all. It’s okay, really. We just want to help you, if you ever need it we’re here, alright?”  I nod again before focusing in on the pictures that line the walls. I don’t really want to think about it _not_ getting better.

It has to.

“You know,” Finnick starts again, shifting slightly as though nervous. “Everyone downstairs is still your friend.” Turning towards him I cock an eyebrow without saying a word. He laughs lightly and pushes on, nerves disappearing. “I know you needed a moment, and that’s okay, but I wanted to tell you that you don’t need to worry about them and what they’re thinking. Even if they were thinking anything bad – and they’re not, trust me – you still have the rest of us to offer a beat down on them if necessary. We’re not judging you and we do love you too. Okay?” I smile tightly at the pictures and try to take his words to heart.

I know in my brain that these people are good, that they are our friends and they’re on our side, but still the doubt haunts me like a bad dream.

It’s the sickness that makes me think that.

No words are needed as the silence overtakes us again.

A few moments pass, maybe more than a few, before a bark of laughter echoes up the stairs and through the door that has kept the world at bay. I grin sadly and stand, brushing my hands over my dress and reaching out for Finnick’s hand.

“Are you ready to go back?” He asks carefully, gauging me with his stare from his spot on the bed. I shake my head, a jerky movement from my stiff neck.

“No. But we should before Peeta starts to worry something fierce.” Laughing nervously at the truth of it all, we make our way back down the hallway and down the stairs towards where the dinner party continues on. Across the room I meet Peeta’s tense gaze, his brow furrowed and his knuckles white as they grip his fork. I keep my eyes locked on him as I offer a small smile that seems to relax his shoulders just slightly.

“You guys better not have had dessert without me!” Finnick jokes loudly, drawing attention to himself while I settle back in my chair. Thom chimes in a crude joke about assuming Finnick was for dessert before my attention is drawn away by the feeling of Peeta’s forehead pressed against my cheek.

“Let’s go home,” he whispers into my ear. His voice is shaky, as though he’s spent the last fifteen minutes clenching his jaw and holding his breath. Hearing it in his voice and knowing him so well, I pull his lips down to mine for a light kiss.

“But there’s still dessert. We can make it another half hour, promise.” I soothe in return. I revel in his warm breath ghosting across my face as he laughs lowly. There’s still tension there, but it’s lessened some. It’s lessened enough.

I’m drawn back to the activity at the table as Annie brings over a tray of white squares, a hearty bursting laugh filling the room. I feel a hand on my knee and I look down at it quickly, noticing its painted nails. When I look up, Delly smiles at me broadly before giving my knee a squeeze.

Without saying a thing, she’s extended me her support. Smiling back, lost for words and choked a little in my throat, I place my hands on the table and return my attention to Annie.

“We couldn’t just have _cake_ if Peeta comes. That’s so insulting,” Annie scoffs and sets the tray down. “So instead, ice cream sandwiches!”

The group around the table breaks into another round of laughter, the sound glorious and reassuring. We settle down quickly and dive in, each person biting into the classic dessert and relishing in it.

Time begins to fly by as the plates are cleared and two more wine bottles are emptied. All around the table happy voices chatter on and stories are told in effective ways. I find myself laughing more than once, at ease with these people who have been here for all these years.

When it finally comes time to call it a night I’m able to leave with a lighter step. I drag a slightly intoxicated Peeta home behind me, his heavy steps made even louder by the elevated levels of alcohol in his system. I don’t mind though, not after the enjoyment that he had during his game of words with Thom that resulted in this drinking.

Up in our bedroom, curled into each other and savouring the smell of his skin and the cool breeze from the window, I can’t help the smile that comes to my lips.

Tonight was good.

And more so, I realize that maybe more days – a lot of days – can be good again.


	13. Chapter 13

It’s been six months since I admitted I was sick, when I started taking the medications that have become part of my routine. I no longer scowl at the bottle and its glaringly white label with its indescribable words. Now I simply lift the pills to my lips and swallow, their influence kicking in overnight and making my days more bearable than I remember in a long time.

I won’t deny there haven’t been blips.

Sometimes I don’t come home until late and other times I sleep through day until dark.

The medication hasn’t wiped my slate clean or eradicated the darkness that tends to creep in, but it has done its part in turning on a light. More often than not I find myself shaking the depression off like a thick fur in the summer, its pieces falling away in clumps and lightening my load.

Peeta has noticed it too, the way I move and smile more easily. He isn’t so much afraid of my mood as he is now more able to understand it and for that I am beyond thanks. Since my diagnosis and if I admit, long before that, Peeta has been my rock and the station that I cling to. He’s reclaimed the part of me that he held so dear before I got sick and now he revels in the side of me that is able to laugh and joke and be happy again.

It’s six months later and I’m sitting in the waiting room of Doctor Aurelius’ office, the toes of my boots grinding into the heavy-duty carpet. Beside me, Peeta sits reading a pamphlet on parenting looking fully engrossed in the content.

The idea of it makes my stomach burn anxiously.

Kids are not an option really.

“Katniss?” The nurse calls from the doorway to the back offices. I jerk my head up in acknowledgement and nearly jump to my feet before Peeta’s hand wraps around mine.

“I’ll be here when you’re done.” He states calmly and gives me a light squeeze. Nodding quickly, I pull my bag behind me and walk quickly through the doorway where I’m ushered into a room on the right.

“How are you feeling today?” The nurse prompts, pulling down the heart rate inflatable cuff. I shrug and shift my bulky sweater off so that she’s able to wrap it around my upper arm while I sit on the paper sheet. “No real complaints or concerns?”  

“No. Sleeping better now, nothing big,” I reply honestly. I’m not exactly sure what she’s prompting me for, too nervous to gage what answers she wants. After the cuff tightens she murmurs something under her breath and catches my eye. “What?” I ask weakly, unsure if I really want the answer.

“Nothing, we’re all good here.” She pulls the cuff loose with a jolt and leaves the room, clipboard in hand.

The anxiety from Peeta’s pamphlet and my general nerves about this appointment condense into their own beast making my forehead start to perspire slightly and my heels kick against the metal drawers below the paper-covered table.

Despite it being simply a follow-up appointment I can’t shake the nerves that jostle through me. The thoughts run ragged as they pump new worries and ideas through my head, each one a little more troubling than the last and sufficiently sucking me down into the darkness of my own mind.

I can’t let this happen. Not right now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I hiss and dig my fingers into the mattress below me. I don’t know how long I sit there, my heels smacking and my nails pinched before the clearing of a throat forces me to look up.

“Katniss?” Aurelius asks tentatively, closing the door lightly, all leading demeanor gone and a more calming man before me.

“Hi,” I mumble. It’s all I can do. My tongue is tied.

“How are you doing today? How’s everything going?” Focusing, I release my fingers and flex them quickly before shoving them in my lap and looking up at the diagram of the inner ear to my right.

“Um, well. Good, I think,” I stumble and flick my eyes towards him as he patiently takes a seat.

“That’s good to hear – have the side effects settled down since your last follow up... Three months ago?” He checks my chart and reads down his list of notes without comment.

I wonder to myself what he wrote there. Probably that I was crazy. Needed higher doses. Institutionalization.

“Yes – “ It croaks out of me as my mind flashes to a hospital with thick white walls.

 _Stop it_. I curse inwardly.

This is going disastrously.

“I swear, I’m not like this lately,” I comment meekly when I notice he’s watching me intently now, no longer involved in his notes.

“What do you mean, exactly? Can you explain?” My laughter bursts from me at his words – can he not see? – But he doesn’t. I choke and settle myself, breathing in until I feel more in control.

“I don’t want you to take away my medicine!” I feel like I shout it but I know it’s merely a statement with force. Aurelius cocks his head slightly and squints, the perfect picture of puzzlement.

“Katniss, what makes you think that I would do that, or even that I have the power to instruct that?” His question strikes me as odd but I realize even then that it was a ridiculous notion. Was that fear the real reason I’d been so nervous for this appointment today? Was that what I was really getting riled up over?

“I don’t – I mean, I feel like I just got a handle on things and now that I do, I thought that... Maybe that that’s how this works? Since they’re meant to like, get you to a functional level I figured once that happened you had to wean me off them and all...” I trail off absently, inwardly kicking myself and this stupid idea.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few things?” He prompts and I shake my head no, unwilling to meet his steady gaze any longer than absolutely necessary.

“When you were just talking there, you mentioned that you felt stable – is that true?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good – great, actually since you’re still on a low dose and if we have to manage it we can adjust in the future. Now, may I ask why you had the impression that today was about taking you off the medication?” As he finishes I see his feet roll into my line of sight, his shoes glinting in the industrial light.

“Well, I don’t know. Am I going to be on them forever? I thought that – “

“Perhaps I didn’t explain appropriately, forgive me. Katniss – you may take this medication until together we deem it either unnecessary and begin to wean you off of it, or when it no longer is functional. The key point that needs to be understood here is that _you_ have a deciding factor in this equation and I will advise you on your decisions. Is that clear?”

I focus on his words and let them sink in for a moment. In all honesty, it’s one of the first times where I feel a sense of empowerment about this illness of mine because I can manage it in some semblance of control – it doesn’t control me.

The thought makes me smile.

“I get it.” I nod and look up slightly.

“Good. Now, lastly, may we talk about why you have such an anxiety about _stopping_ the medications?”

Inwardly, his words bounce around until they really sink in.

“It is kind of silly, isn’t it?” I question quietly and Aurelius laughs, surprising me.

“It’s not silly at all – I just want to be sure that you understand this may not be a situation where you require the medications for a long term. In a year maybe you’ll even want to try to adjust back to life without them – we are able to try things in this situation and I hope you understand this isn’t necessarily a lock for life?”

“But it might be?” I hesitate. I understand what he’s saying but I’ve also become resigned to the regimen and the fact that this may be my life.

I don’t _want_ to be like how I was before.

“We will be able to try. I’m not making any promises as it’s still very early in your life but there are things we can do if and when you want to know more. For right now though I’d recommend sticking with what’s working. There is the possibility that you will require them for the rest of your life, or you may be able to adjust to life without them. What will be the telling factor is time and when you’re ready – are we clear?” I nod and he rolls back to his computer, typing slowly as though he’s unfamiliar with the technology. The idea astounds me. “Anything else you want to discuss? This was only a check in so we won’t make any changes at this point unless there’s something more?”

“No. Everything is actually okay lately. Good even.”

“Well, then let’s get you an updated prescription and you can enjoy the rest of your day.”

Together we leave the office and make idle chatter until the ancient printer rattles to life. I watch the piece of paper spit out and smile as he places it in my hand. In a small way, this paper isn’t as terrifying as it was before. Now it’s more like empowerment to fight back.

“Call us if you need anything,” Aurelius bids before walking into another office off the hallway.

Making my way out into the waiting room I spot Peeta talking with a woman beside him and smiling brightly. Catching sight of me he doesn’t hesitate to bid his farewells and step widely towards me, enveloping me in a hug that could crush a tree.

“The smile says it went well – real or not real?” He whispers in my ear.

I don’t need to answer. He knows it’s “real”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever, but similar to my character, life is going okay.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter contains content involving serious subject matter. Another AN will be at the bottom with resources if you require them and you are always welcome to reach out to me with any questions you may have, or if you just want a friendly bit of love.

* * *

"Kat, remember when we went on that trip? The camping one, where I had no idea what I was even doing? It was just after you gave me a chance at being with you and I swear you were still trying to put me through the ringer to make sure I was in it for real. God, I thought we were going to die on that trip. The rain? Do you remember that? How it soaked through our tent and we nearly drowned?

"Or when I tried to light the stove but left the propane on for too long and singed my eyebrows? I thought you were for sure done with me after that – couldn't take me anywhere. But you just laughed and brushed my hair back and it just felt...

"I don't think then you knew how I felt. Bailing out our tent at two in the morning with that damn lantern barely giving light to anything – I watched you kneel at the doorway and sweep the water out with that ridiculous smile on your face and your hair all over. You are so beautiful – do you even see it?"

There's a long sigh and then a pause. I wonder what's coming next and hold my breath tight in my chest.

"When you stopped outside my place afterwards, I didn't want to get out of the truck. I think you knew, maybe, and that's why you kissed me for the first time. Well, it wasn't the first, but I mean woah, it was the _first_ – do you remember?"

Behind the door I nod and press my knuckles into my eyes harder to try to stop the burn of my tears. I choke back a sob, desperate to remain quiet and not make this any worse than it already is.

All of my pills are on the counter, emptied out of their bottles and scattered in a rainbow of colour. I've been staring at them for hours since coming home from my shift tonight.

If I was being honest, I don't quite know what set me off this time. I know I didn't feel the best when I woke up today – it just wasn't _right_ the way I was lagging. All day I lay around the house moving from the couch to the bed to my spot at the kitchen table. That's where Peeta found me when he came home from work, bustling to get dinner together so I wouldn't be late. I managed to take a few bites – the first of the day – before heading to work and getting down to business.

It was going okay until it just _wasn't_.

Haymitch noticed first, sending me on break and telling me to come back when I wasn't acting like a zombie. It was freezing outside but I barely even noticed.

"Girl, what are you doing? Trying to kill yourself out here?" Haymitch had barked harshly, tugging on my arm. Returning inside I remember seeing the clock and realizing I'd been outside without my jacket in the cold for nearly an hour.

I hadn't even felt it.

But I felt his words.

Maybe I was trying to. Maybe that's what this sucking feeling was.

Nothing was getting better. Tomorrow and the next day, they'd all be the same and I could already feel myself slipping.

I'd noticed it for a while now, my days getting a little less shiny and a little more brittle. I snapped at Prim more than once when she called to check in. Peeta turned a blind eye because he was still so happy that I was wearing the ring he'd promised himself to me with.

Now though it bit into the palm of my hand.

He won't want me after he sees this.

He can't want me at all. I'm a disaster. I can't even get fucking _better_.

Why can't I get better?

"Katniss?" His voice is broken and I know we've been here before.

Coming home from work I'd gone first to the medicine cabinet in the linen closet. I'd pulled down the first aid box and moved it to my place in the bathroom. I wasn't sure why – it just seemed important that I have it. Next, I'd stepped quietly through our room, grabbing up my pill bottles from the bedside table and praying they would remain silent and not wake him.

I watched him sleep for who knows how long, the crisp air coming in through the propped open window and the pale moonlight making his skin glow.

It must be past dawn now.

How can he ever forgive me?

I look at the rainbow and bite through the skin of my hand trying to keep my breathing steady. I think about what I had been planning.

He would have found me.

He was right in the next room.

It would have destroyed him.

My mind tells me I already have.

"Can you just say something so I – " his words break, "I need to hear your voice. Please."

"I –" I don't have any words.

"Kat, Kat please, open the door," he's frantic again. Like he was when he first realized I'd locked myself in here overnight. The first word I'd spoken in hours has seemed to stir him back into action and he brushes at the other side of the door. "I don't care about anything but you being okay – we're in this together, remember? Whatever you're thinking, it's not real. Please, _please_ , open the door."

Closing my eyes I suck in some air and reach up, my hand shaking as it lands on the lock. The small click of the simple mechanism seems to echo in my head before the handle is turned and I'm pushed forward by the pressure of the door.

There's a hand on mine, closed tightly around my fingers and damp with sweat or something else.

"If you don't want to move, that's okay. We can sit here. Just – can I please just hold your hand here?"

I can't think after that. The tears come thick and heavy, pouring down my face as I realize the hell I've put him through. I've tortured him and dragged him through my muck and my sadness and everything bad that I have.

Somewhere in the haze of my exhausted sobbing I feel his arms wrap around me and pull me to him. I don't know how he got here but he's here and he's warm and I feel like I'll never be warm again and I never want him to let me go.

Not ever.

Before I know it he's wrapped around me, a blanket cocooning us together and he's grasping at my back so fiercely I can feel his fingers making indents in my skin.

I can't stop crying.

I can't do anything.

"Please don't – " I gasp against him.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. I'm staying. Always." He responds without me even finishing my question.

* * *

I cried myself to sleep.

I can feel it in the sore muscles and the aching bones and the puffy eyes and the raw throat.

Peeta is still wrapped around me, his face in my hair and his leg hooked around mine.

Looking around the room as the sunlight streams through the windows I take stock of what's just happened. On the bedside table I see my pill bottles returned, caps securely fastened and colourful capsules inside.

A heavy weight lands on my chest and Peeta must not be asleep like I'd thought.

"We can't ignore it this time," he whispers and in his words I can tell he's broken. The pain isn't just mine, I've dragged him along with me. I've pulled him into the depths of my suffering and he isn't safe to be there. Not my shining beacon. He's like Hercules drowning in the River of Death.

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: After struggling myself, I understand how suicide can seem to come in almost deceptively. I personally suffer from SAD and a few other variety things which makes the winter season extremely difficult for me.
> 
> Please know that you are not alone. Not ever.
> 
> If you need help, please reach out to one of these resources, or one in your area depending on accessibility:
> 
> Kids Help Phone (Canada)
> 
> 1-800-668-6868
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (US)
> 
> 1-800-273-TALK
> 
> IMAlive (Online Chat Helpline, resource center, Google it for best access)


	15. Chapter 15

“Sleeve up, please.” The charge nurse requests, a thermometer stuck in my mouth and the blood pressure cuff wrapped around my arm while the beeping fills the room. Somewhere behind me Peeta is watching through the plate glass windows.

I can feel it.

The pressure on the cuff breaks and the readings are taken.

“So, Mrs Everdeen – “

“Miss,” I interrupt. It seems important right now.

“Sorry – yes, Miss Everdeen, what brings you in tonight?” The woman is older, maybe early fifties, with cropped short hair and hot pink glasses. She reads her computer as though she were staring off into space, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“I’m having a hard time with my anxiety...” I murmur, my fingers clasped together and my palms sweating. I tell myself I’m only here because I couldn’t get to see my doctor until next week and next week might be too late.

_Too late for what?_

“Just your anxiety? What are your symptoms?”

“Sweating, tense muscles, I can’t sleep...” My voice is hoarse – when did that happen?

“Are you on any medication?” I nod, placing the bag of pills on the counter between us and allowing her to enter the information into the computer. “These are for depression as well – are you experiencing anything related to that specifically?”

I nod tightly. For the first time since sitting down across from this woman she really _looks_ at me, her eyes burning through my skull.

“Okay then. We’re all set here, if you want to go to the registration desk and check your information then you can go have a seat. Good luck, Miss Everdeen.” She smiles sympathetically at me and I get up, walking two cubicles down and sitting heavily before another woman who wraps a bracelet around my wrist and bids me good night.

Joining Peeta, we head to the waiting room and settle ourselves into the hard plastic chairs. All around us people are visibly sick, coughing or bleeding or something. I feel out of place, my hands tucked in my lap and my knees nearly at my chest with the tightness I feel in my body.

“Hey, can I help?” Peeta whispers, his hand rubbing slow circles across my back. It feels good, soothing. Closing my eyes I hang my head and let him continue his motions, his body heat surrounding me.

I don’t know how long we wait, it could be hours, I don’t notice, before my name is called and another nurse leads us back into the curtained emergency area. We’re seated in a small corner room, both of us sitting in the chairs though I’m encouraged repeatedly to take a seat on the bed.

I refuse. I don’t want to get comfortable here.

We sit in silence again, my hand now in Peeta’s as we wait for the doctor to arrive.

Peeta is too good to me. I can’t even look at him. Are his hands sweating? Why is he stressed? What am I doing to him?

“Peeta, why don’t you go out to the waiting room and I’ll meet you out there soon?” I croak, my stiff muscles aching as I turn my head towards him. I watch him frown, his features falling and his hand flexing around mine.

“Katniss?” He questions lowly, tentatively. I shake my head and close my eyes.

“I’ll be okay here, promise. I think I just need to do this by myself,” I try. I can’t look at him. I can’t have him watch this happen. This is as low as it gets. I shouldn’t be doing this to him. “Can you just go? Please?”

My voice cracks.

“Miss Everdeen?” The doctor breaks the tension by stepping into the curtained area, pulling the thick green cover across until we’re surrounded. Beside me Peeta shifts uncomfortably, his hand touching and then withdrawing from mine, our conversation unfinished.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Katniss?” Peeta tries again.

I can’t bear this.

“I’ll see you soon.” I whisper. It takes another moment of the doctor staring at us before Peeta gets to his feet, the tension radiating off of him as he steps past me. I don’t look up – I can’t – not as he walks away and leaves me.

I asked for this.

 _You’re such a fucking idiot_.

“Miss Everdeen, what brings you in tonight?” The doctor asks, seating himself on the edge of the mattress. I turn my head away from the sight of his shoes and squeeze my eyes shut until the tears dissipate.

They don’t.

“I’m experiencing some severe anxiety – it’s been on-going for a few days now. I’m having a hard time sleeping, my muscles hurt, I’m sweating a lot. It’s just getting to be too much and I want it to stop.” I sound like I smoke a pack a day. I must look a wreck – my hair undone and my sweats ratty and old. He must think I’m losing it.

“Alright – I can see that in the way you’re sitting right now – you look a little tense. What were you hoping we could do for you tonight, in your situation?” I look up at him then, the question taking me by surprise because it doesn’t make sense. Didn’t I come here because I wanted them to just fix me?

Was I really so hopeless that I didn’t know what I wanted to happen?

“I – uh, I don’t – “ I stutter, my lip quivers. The doctor nods, encouraging me to continue. “I just wanted it to uh, to stop. I just want to relax. I can’t – I’m – “

“I think I understand – Miss Everdeen, have you been thinking about hurting yourself? Hurting others?” He questions carefully, his eyes watching me intensely.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” I whisper harshly. The words feel like accusations.

“And yourself?”

“Yes.”

The curtained area falls quiet, the sounds of the ER thudding in my head as I feel the tears creep down my cheeks. They reek of the terror that fills me, at the ideas that I’ve been considering and am now admitting.

“Are you thinking about suicide right now?” He prompts after a moment. I shake my head viciously.

“No. Not right now. Just recently – I just wanted the way I was feeling to stop. I just want it to stop.” I hiccup.

“Okay – do you feel like you need a safe space?” I shake my head again. I know I’m okay for right now. It’s the rest of the time – I need a break. “Miss Everdeen, have you ever spoken with a psychiatrist? Or seen a specialist for these feelings you’re experiencing?” I nod, telling him about my doctor and how he’s been helping me for a while. It doesn’t seem to phase him. “Okay – that’s good but perhaps we should get you a few more resources. How would you feel about seeing the on-call social worker? We could setup an appointment for later this week – I can see what’s available?”

Nodding, I watch as the man gets to his feet and disappears beyond the curtain, the breeze opening it slightly. Down the hallway, not too far, I catch sight of Peeta leaning against the wall, his body bent slightly at the waist as he holds his head in his hands.

My heart hurts for him. I want his pain to stop. It’s not fair – I shouldn’t be able to do this to him. I press my fingers into my thighs until they hurt, my body nearly ripping in half at the thought of Peeta’s suffering.

“Okay – here we go.” The doctor breaks into my thoughts, handing me a piece of green paper with instructions and a date and time written on it in chicken scratch scrawl. “Now – what do you have in terms of support to get you through the next few days? Any family? The man who is accompanying you?”

“Yes – both. I – “ My words stop abruptly as Peeta pushes past the curtain and sits heavily beside me. He takes my hand without question and I watch him through tear-ravaged eyes as he meets the doctor’s gaze head on.

He doesn’t say a word.

“Is everything – “ The doctor starts and I have to tear my eyes away from Peeta who sits stoically beside me to nod.

“Yes – it’s okay. He’s okay to be here,” I hesitate, glimpsing Peeta again through my periphery. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t say a thing, just holds my hand in his. Like a rock, stabilizing me.

“Well, yes. Miss Everdeen, I’d like to give you something to help you get some rest tonight. It should help you even out for the next 48 hours or so and that should help with the tension and anxiety. I’d like you to contact your doctor when you’re able to and discuss with him what we’ve talked about here. If you need anything, or you feel like you’re going to hurt yourself, please come back.”

I feel the words begin to wash over me, the calm spread of hope falling into the crevices of my soul and filling me until I don’t feel so shattered. The doctor leaves and still Peeta says nothing, his hand steady in mine. When the nurse comes in a moment later with a pill and a cup of water, I take it easily and get to my feet.

Peeta follows.

We don’t say a word as we leave the ER, my thoughts too full of what has transpired and fears about what is going on between us. Peeta walks carefully behind me, his footsteps heavy until we get into the cab that’s waiting at the exit.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask as I stand behind him while he unlocks the door some time later. The whole ride home from the hospital was silent, not a word spoken. I feel like I’ve wronged him badly. Like I’ve tortured him and wrung him out.

“No. We’re okay. I promise. Let’s get you to bed before the drugs really kick in. We can talk in the morning.”

Despite the warmth of the drug floating through my system and easing my muscles, the weary feeling in my gut from Peeta’s behaviour has me scared.

Have I really pushed him too far away? I can’t – I need him.

“I need you,” I slur into my pillow, the drugs beginning to pull me under. Peeta settles me against him, the blanket covering us and creating our own little world full of steady breaths and warmth.

I don’t hear his response before I’m asleep.


	16. Chapter 16

“Katniss, open up the door already,” Prim calls from the other side, her knocking growing more frequent and heavy. I turn over in bed and stare at the door, internally wishing she would just go home and let me rest.

That’s all I want to do right now – dig my head into the pillows and sink into nothingness until I can’t find my way out again.

The drugs I’ve been given by the doctor have laid me out like a zombie. I know they’re supposed to help me get my feet back under myself but really all they do is numb me until I can’t feel anything. It has its good moments, like when I’d rather not think at all, but it also has its bad, like when Peeta comes to tuck me in at night.

Those are the worst times because I can see his hesitation and his rejection. He thinks my withdrawal is because I don’t love him anymore. I can understand why, but I wish he could know it was because I love him too much that I need to sink away. I only hope that maybe he’ll be able to move on and find someone better for himself, someone who doesn’t do this to him.

The thought hurts worse than anything.

“If you don’t open this damn door dear sister of mine I will break it down with my own hands I swear to god!” Her words call me back to the present and I smile weakly, the picture of my little blonde-haired, tiny, blue-eyed sister attacking the door being almost laughable.

Rocking myself slightly as an instinct of comfort, I slowly move my legs until they’re hanging off the bed. I catch sight of my toes, the nails in a state of despair as the touch of polish I typically keep has chipped away. Maybe I’ll fix them today.

“Katniss!”

Sighing, I push myself to the door and unclick the lock. The audible sound alerts Prim to her granted access and she swings the door open enthusiastically before barging towards me and pulling me into her arms. I gasp at the impact, my body now seemingly unfamiliar to the comfort of my sister’s arms.

“Hello,” I murmur into her hair as I wonder awkwardly what to do with my arms.

“You shouldn’t make me threaten to destroy your house, it’s rude and one day you know I’ll do it.” Prim states as she pulls back and brushes the loose hair from my face. I try to smile but I’m aware it probably comes out only as a grimace. “Peeta said you guys went to the hospital. How was that?”

She leads us both over to the bed where she sits down and makes herself at home by tucking her feet in and leaning forward on her elbows. The image reminds me of when we were kids, our small selves having conferences under the blankets at night with flashlights and tokens we’d collected. Those stolen moments remind me of a happier time – a time when I was able to function like a person.

“It was... Scary, I think.” I recall, remembering the fear I’d had about myself and the way Peeta would react.

“Were the doctors nice? Were they like – um, the ones who looked after mom?” I hear the hesitation in Prim’s voice as she asks.

It’s easy to understand why Prim must be nervous – she was only a child when we wound up at the emergency ward when Hazelle took mom there in the middle of one of her break downs. The doctors had been terrifying at that time – rushing around and sticking needles in her and strapping her hands to the gurney. Looking back, it must have been frightening for Prim. I remember the way I’d held steadfast to Prim’s hand, too nervous to really say anything comforting.

I’d let her down. I couldn’t do that to her again.

“No. They were okay. Really nice about it actually. They set me up with an appointment with some social worker or something and gave me some medicine. It makes me woozy but I’m not losing it while I take it so that works out, I guess.” Picking at my fingers, I avoid her gaze while I try to make it sound as normal as possible. I know she won’t judge me, not really, but the fear of making her perception of me negative makes me nervous still.

“So, they didn’t tell you you had to stay or anything?” I shake my head at her question and look away.

“Because, um... Peeta came with me – “ I choke as the heaviness in my chest makes me want to break and sob at his name.

I feel Prim’s hand on mine, her fingers squeezing.

“He’s strong, Katniss. He’s still here. I just talked with him downstairs. He was pretty upset that you asked him to leave, you know?” Her voice is soothing but her words make me fall apart inside.

I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want this for him.

“I didn’t – I just – “ I gasp for air and fight back the tears and the overwhelming feeling of panic at letting everyone down. Prim waits quietly for me to gather myself, her body shifting closer to mine as she gives me her silent support. “I can’t keep doing this to him!”

The words fall out of me in a rush as I admit my greatest frustration. I know that I’m easily broken right now – that I’m difficult to be around and even more difficult to love. It hurts to think about myself with such loathing. The cycle is vicious.

“Katniss,” Prim soothes, her hand brushing softly at my hair. “Peeta isn’t going anywhere. You need to get past this.”

“How can he stay around me if I keep hurting him? How can he not hate me for hating myself? How can he love me if all I can do is hate myself?”

“Because he still loves you despite all of that, don’t you see? You try to push him away and he holds on harder because he knows you better than to let you fall apart. Peeta isn’t dumb, and he sure as hell isn’t going anywhere no matter what. He knows you’re fucked up now Katniss, he gets it just like you get it, but he also knows that you will come back from this. And he’ll be there, through the worst and the best, because he loves all of the parts of you.”

“I don’t want him to!” I shout in frustration and curl my hands in my lap before looking up at Prim. She only smiles and shakes her head.

“That’s not you and you know it. That’s your depression talking. Katniss, you might think he’s better off without you but that’s just not true. Peeta loves you, he loved you before you got sick and he loves you right now even though you are sick. And! He’ll love you when you’re better again too. Don’t you remember how you felt about mom? It’s like that, it doesn’t stop.” She argues, never looking away.

I have to though. I have to because what I say next will damn me in her eyes.

“I did stop loving her though,” I admit softly. I feel the silence of it bore into me and I have to pull away, my feet swinging until I’m pacing the floor of my room with quick steps.

“Katniss, you didn’t – “

“Yes, I did. I hated her Prim. I hated her because she wasn’t there for me. I hated her because she wasn’t there for you!” I shout while throwing my hands in the air as the anger and frustration claw at my insides.

“You didn’t stop loving her. I know you didn’t. I know you!” Prim shouts equally, her body now perched on the edge of the bed as she watches me wear a hole in the floor. I don’t know whether she’s right, not really, I just know that what I’m feeling is too uncertain, my muscles tensing and the headache threatening to crowd in on me.

“Can you just go?” I moan lowly, defeat cracking my resolve to stay angry. I stand still as Prim evaluates me, a small smile curving her lips.

“I’m going to send Peeta up. It’ll do him good to see you so feisty. Trust me Katniss; you’re going to get through this. We won’t let it go any other way.” Prim promises and steps quickly from the room, disappearing out the doorway without a sound.

I dig my toes into the floor for a moment, unsure of the conversation that’s just happened and how I feel.

I think I feel almost normal, like the way my heart had been racing before wasn’t a pattern of fear but one of emotion. A rarity in the way I really feel lately.

Smiling slightly to myself, I turn to the drawer where I keep my box of nail polish – my small indulgence – and pull it out. Returning to the bed, I dig through the box and pull out the colours to lay them in a rainbow pattern. The range goes from bright to dark, speckled to solid.

“I like the orange one,” Peeta says from over my shoulder, startling me. I hadn’t heard his heavy tread coming which is surprising for me. I wonder how long he’s been watching me sort and admire my collection.

“Blood orange or the sunset one?” I ask quietly, not turning to look at him for fear of him being angry at me and the way I’ve treated him lately. Behind me I feel the mattress sink as he joins me, his body heat hovering behind mine for a second, a second that I can tell he’s debating internally over, before he connects his chest with my back and his chin with my shoulder.

“Always the sunset one. But you’d look beautiful in either.” He states as his arms wrap around me and thumb at the two colour choices. His large hands hold them up before me and I can’t stop the sigh that escapes me as I relax into the normality of the moment, the charge from earlier disappearing.

I’ve missed this. I’ve missed his closeness and the way he brings comfort to me by simply being. The tension between us has created a wedge that sometimes seems too big to cross but right now, right here, we feel like one.

“Can I help?” He asks after another moment, his nose brushing against my ear as his forehead rests against my own. The intimacy cocoons me and I nod, turning until my lips can reach his. The kiss is slow and easy, an apology, a peace offering, a truce.

I doubt he’d ever thought we were at war but I know my sickness was, it was fighting everything.

When I pull back, I take notice of his hands at my hips and his legs pushing against mine. I feel the low burn of desire in my belly and when I look up and meet his gaze I see the wide blackness of his pupils.

“I love you,” he whispers and nudges his nose against mine affectionately. I smile and nod, my hands pressing against his chest and then slipping lower and under his shirt. I let my palms rise to rest over his heart, the beat picking up as I lean in for another kiss.

It makes me feel alive.

It makes me feel like the haze is lifting.

“I do love you, Peeta,” I murmur and time seems to speed up as our hands drift over our skin, as our bodies press together and our clothes disappear. I slide against the bulge in his shorts, my body humming excitedly for the first time in so long.

He looks up at me after nothing separates us and his eyes meet mine and lock. Hands on my cheeks, Peeta rises up and kisses me deeply. Shifting back, I let him fill me until we’re both gasping for air. The feeling sends me reeling, my body craving him closer.

Wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist I cling to him as he starts to move. The groans that escape him make my body alight, my heart racing while my teeth nip at his shoulder.

It happens slowly, our bodies moving together until we fall apart, the closeness seemingly overwhelming us.

I don’t care that there was nothing between us. I don’t care about the consequences. I needed him to be as close to me as possible. I need _him_. I want him with me always.

When the sweat cools on our skin and we finally pull away from each other, I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. It’s a sign of contentment, a sign of comfort, and Peeta returns the feeling by pressing soft kisses to my shoulder.

“I love you, always and forever Katniss,” he promises. I feel it emanating off him, enveloping me. “Please don’t try to make me go. I won’t. Not ever.”

The lightness of the moment dissipates with his words, my body tensing as I come back to reality and remember how horrible I’ve been to him.

“I’m going to try.” I promise, turning his chin until I can meet his eyes. We know I’ll struggle with the right words, I always do, but I need him to see that I will try.

We stare at one another, our breaths the only sound between us, until Peeta nods and smiles, cocking his head towards the end of the bed.

“Would you like me to help with painting your nails?” He asks innocently, his hand sliding down my bare leg until it wraps around my foot. The bright smile breaks across my face and I nod, sitting up and grabbing at the sunset orange colour and handing it to him.

“I would love that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a small outtake I wrote, a drabble perhaps, that was posted on my Tumblr a few days ago. I'm going to be putting it up in Collections too, just so that it's all in one place. It's called The Window, if you want to look it up there.


	17. Chapter 17

"How are you feeling today, Katniss?" Doctor Rosenthal sits before me, her notebook perched in her lap and her hands folded over it protectively. Leaning back on the couch, I turn my gaze from the window to meet hers and smile slightly.

"I'm feeling alright. The sun helps," At least I think it does.

Ever since going to the hospital, things have been okay. I've been taking my medications regularly, seeing Rosenthal bi-weekly, and seemingly able to get through the day without the bad thoughts clouding my mind or pulling me under. It's been a different few months, at least.

"That's good. Sun often does help stimulate the mind and increase mood. It also helps your body sync up to the light schedule which works with sleep and awakeness. I'm glad to hear that. How are things going at home? How is Peeta doing?" She jots a few notes in her book as I explain that things are going better, that her recommended adjustments to the way I rationalized things were helpful.

Since I started coming here, we've worked on not only balancing my medications, but also on my perceptions of the things around me. I won't deny that Peeta has been a key factor and that my thoughts about him and I, about the way I think he thinks about me, have played a role in my depressive thoughts. It only makes sense then that Rosenthal has targeted in on our relationship and helped me change the negativity of what I've been thinking so that I don't keep sabotaging our relationship.

"And how about your overall health? Are you seeing progress with your sleep cycle?"

"I'm getting a bit better at sleeping on a schedule. Still sometimes napping, but only when it's been a long day. Nothing like what I was doing before, sleeping all day or not at all." I admit and it brings another smile to my lips. Sleeping properly has been one of my bigger accomplishments as I fight back against this illness.

"That's good to hear. How about eating?"

I pause at that, recalling how eating _isn't_ my strong suit. Despite Peeta preparing most of my meals, I was still a little hesitant to say I was eating better. More often than not I would sneak out and head to the forest near our house, climbing trees or walking the footpaths for a few hours. The hikes would keep me away during meal times and I wouldn't miss them. When I'd return home, Peeta would offer a snack and I'd take it, if only to appease him.

"It's... A struggle, I guess. I mean, I am eating just that I'm not really hungry." I look towards the window at my admission, hoping to avoid the knowing look I was about to receive.

"Katniss, we have been over this a few times now. Are you not hungry, or are you just not interested? Because there is a difference and it could be the medications or it could be some other factor. We need to work on that still, alright? I'm going to write it down here for next time as something to keep checking up on. Now, how about you tell me about your week?" I nod at her request and easily drift into relaying the last few days.

It was nothing out of the ordinary – I ran with Prim, went back for a few day shifts at work, and read a few books. I'd say it was a normal week, at least in the scheme of things.

"Except, I wanted to ask before I really started to freak – would my medications stop me from getting my period? Or..." I let the words sink as Rosenthal looks up from her notes and peers at me above the edge of her glasses.

"How many have you missed?" She questions lightly, turning to reach for one of the heavy books over her shoulder. Propping it in her lap, she flips through the pages before landing on one and reading it through, her finger tracing the lines.

"Just the one. I wouldn't be asking about one normally but, well, Peeta and I..." I trial off again and lean forward, my head in my hands as the anxiety from my earlier realization catches up with me.

It really hadn't bothered me. When at first it didn't come I'd figured it was probably stress, maybe my body was still reeling from my depression and the toll it was taking on my emotions. Then I'd thought maybe it was my drugs, something chemically messing with me. But then I'd remembered the time after the hospital, when Peeta and I had been intimate but I hadn't cared for protection.

The thought had sent me into a tailspin until I'd put it on lockdown, sure that I'd taken my birth control pills regularly and that this was just a side effect from something else.

Now as I sat here, waiting for advice, the panic was creeping back up on me.

"Okay, Katniss, it says here that some of the side effects of this type of medication can cause a pause in menstruation. Or it could be stress related, as we've discussed before. But I still want you to take a test, just to put your mind at ease. I don't think it's pregnancy, as long as you've been taking your birth control properly?" She questions and I nod quickly, affirming I've done at least that correctly. "Good. Then go buy a test, relieve yourself of the stress of wondering and we'll see how it goes from there, alright? Now, I think our time is up for today. If you talk to Cheryl in the front office she can help setup your next appointment, let's say... A month from now?"

Thanking her quickly and trying to force down the thoughts racing through my head, I grab my stuff and leave the office. Outside, Peeta is lounging in one of the plush waiting room chairs, reading a _Time_ magazine and fully engrossed it in. I've made my next appointment and paid before he even looks up at me, grinning widely.

"Sorry, I got distracted by an article about TV bake shows. How was it?" He asks after joining me and planting a kiss on my forehead.

"It was good. She wants me to eat better though," I say, forcing a smile to my face and pushing the thoughts of pregnancy from my mind. Without even meaning to though, my hand drifts to my belly and rubs absently, wondering, before I slip it into Peeta's and we head out of the office.

The walk home is filled with banter, a light conversation keeping us company as we head home to get dinner on the table. Stepping past the threshold, I play my card.

"Shoot. She wanted me to pickup something at the pharmacy. I'll be home later!" I shout towards Peeta who's already entered the kitchen and started pulling down pots from the ceiling rack. I'm just sliding my coat on when he pokes his head out at looks at me, his gaze assessing.

"Promise you'll eat when you get back?" He asks tentatively, always careful to not push too hard.

"Promise. I'll be home soon." I nod and slip out the door and back onto the street.

My feet carry me quickly, my pace higher than the walk home and easily making quick work of the breath in my lungs. When I reach the pharmacy in Peeta's bakery's plaza, I tuck my head to avoid being seen by anyone I know. Inside the shop I find myself facing off against the options available to me, staring down the variety of choices and biting my lip until it bleeds.

"Can I help you – oh, hey Katniss," Johanna greets, stepping towards me and pulling me in for an awkward hug. I try not to let fact that my stomach has just sunk to the floor be visible in my face.

"Hi Johanna, I didn't know you worked here," I squeak out, wrapping my arms around my middle and staring just over her shoulder at the signs marking the aisles.

"Oh, you know, just picking up some extra money on the side. You know how it is," she laughs and rambles on, talking about her second job to make ends meet. I nod all the while, trying to keep my jealousy of her normality from snapping out of me. "And you know, you become a bit of an expert in everything working somewhere like this. Here, this one is highly recommended." She finishes and it's only then I see her holding out a test box towards me. Taking a risk, I look up to meet her eyes and it's there I see her sympathetic look.

"Oh, uh – " I stumble, my arms still wrapped firmly around me. Johanna reaches forward and gently squeezes my arm, pulling my hand down to take the box.

"It's alright Katniss, I won't mention anything. Do you need to, uh, take the test here? We have an employee bathroom just around back and..." She trails off, her hands motioning towards the pharmacy counter.

I chew my lip harder, torn between trying to hide it at home or letting Johanna find out before anyone else.

"Dammit," I curse and look down at the box. Three minutes, that's all it takes. I look towards the area Johanna had offered and then again at the box. "Can I... Pay and just, get it done with?" I don't want to meet her eyes, afraid of that sympathy again.

"Yes, of course. Come with me," Johanna instructs and bypasses the line at the counter, processing my payment quickly and pulling me along behind her until we're both standing in the bathroom with the door shut tight. "Now, this one you just have to pee on it, okay? It's pretty straightforward. One line is no, two lines is yes. Okay? And Katniss, don't worry, I swear I won't say a word unless you need me to. Knock when you're ready, I'll be just outside."

Giving my shoulder a tight squeeze, Johanna slips out the door and closes it behind her, leaving me to the stale smell of cleaning products and the harsh fluorescent lights above. Turning towards the mirror, I try to summon my strength by repeating positive words to my own reflection. I had never thought when Rosenthal told me to do this that it would actually work, but as I stand here, telling myself in the mirror that I'm indestructible, I find myself pulling apart the box and reaching for the stick inside.

I make quick work of the test, resting it on the box in the sink when I'm finished and opening the door to stand outside with Johanna. She looks at me funny, confusion on her face, before I tell her I couldn't watch. Laughing nervously we both wait without words, Johanna watching the clock and finally letting me know that it's been long enough.

"It's alright Katniss, you can do this," Johanna reminds me and holds open the door for me. Letting me approach the sink alone, I stare down into the bowl until my eyes land on the reader screen.

One line.

"One line," I repeat aloud, my insides clamouring with excitement and relief as the realization sets in. Not pregnant.

"No Knocked Up shotgun wedding for you," Johanna confirms, glancing at the stick too before tossing it in the trash. Letting out the breath I'd been unknowingly holding, I turn to Johanna and grab her arms, pulling her against me roughly.

"Thank you for this. I didn't want – I mean, I think Peeta would have wanted it and well, I don't think I can right now and please – "

"No worries. Seriously. I won't tell him." She interrupts my running words and I nod, thankful that she's not judging me. Stepping away, I figure it's best I get home soon before Peeta starts to wonder where I am. Making my way out of the bathroom, I'm just about to leave when Johanna calls out again to me. Jogging up, I cock an eyebrow at her in confusion. "I just, you should tell him about this one Kat, so you don't have to go it alone. Just saying."

I look at her with shock clear on my face as she steps back and disappears between the aisles.

The whole way home I turn it over in my head, thinking about how this moment could have been so much different. Thinking about how scared I would have been. How I probably wouldn't have gone home but would have hid out until I could breathe again.

When I'm finally on my doorstep I know Johanna was right. I needed to tell Peeta. He was there for me, he'd understand and he would want to know. He had a right to know and if I was really getting better, this would be something I'd need to do if we were going to make it.

"Hey hotstuff, ready for some BBQ?" Peeta shouts playfully from the kitchen as I step through the entranceway.

Without a word I join him in the kitchen and wrap my arms around him, holding him to me so I can feel the breath leaving his lungs and his heart beat steady.

"What's all this about?" He asks carefully, leaning back so that he can meet my eyes.

"I took a pregnancy test. It was negative. But you needed to know. I'm sorry," I blurt out, my hands covering my face to try to hide myself from him. I try not to let my nerves overwhelm me, using the anxiety techniques that Rosenthal has taught me to hold myself together.

A moment passes. Then two.

"This is good right now, right?" Peeta whispers questioningly. I nod from behind my hands, still not able to look at him.

"I'm not ready," I reply shortly.

It's another moment of awkward silence and my frazzled nerves before I feel his arms wrapping around me and his warmth settling over me.

"Tell me next time, please?" He asks, his chin resting on my head. "I can't help you if I don't know. But I'm always on your side, remember that, alright?"

"Yes, promise." I mumble against him and the stress seems to drain from me like a river running dry leaving me bare.

"So, there's ribs then," Peeta states a second later, lightness back in his voice and his body more relaxed as he steps away. When I look up at him, he's smiling again, his grin just reaching the edges of his eyes.

Though the admission has past, I try not to worry about the fact that things have returned to normal so quickly. I watch Peeta still as he eats, seemingly calm and not angry at me for my lies. Maybe he's really okay with it? That's what I have to go with, I figure, and try to move on.

As the evening progresses, I feel the tension from between us earlier slip away. By the time bedtime rolls around, Peeta is totally back to normal, holding me against him with his arm around my waist and hand resting on my belly.

"I love you Katniss," he whispers, his fingers rubbing small circles. I sink into him further, enjoying the feeling of him being so close. "When the time is right, we'll be okay."

"I know," I reply hearing the honesty in his words and the acceptance of what had happened earlier. I relish in it knowing that had this been a month ago, had I not sought help and started on this path, things would have been so much different. Things wouldn't be alright.

But I know that now for the first time since falling into my depression, I think I really do believe we'll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to mention that right now, I'm not sure where I'll go after this chapter so it might be it.


	18. Chapter 18

_How do you measure a year?_

_This question has been kicking around in my head since Peeta and I watched Rent for the umpteenth time earlier this week. It isn‘t necessarily the movie itself, though the question is prominent, but it‘s been something I have thought of for a while but didn’t quite know how to put it into words._

_But now I could._

_So, how do you measure a year?_

_My nightly journal tells me it’s been a year since I last felt like I was drowning inside. Eleven months, thirty days, and too many hours to really count. I won’t say the journal has saved me because I know it’s not that simple, but I can say I think it is definitely a part of it. A part of the way I’ve clawed back to the life of the living and started healing from the destruction that my depression has caused in my life._

_I won’t say I’m cured. Like an alcoholic I don’t think I ever will be, but I think this disease is in hiding. I think I’ve finally got it on the run and I’m winning._

_At least I hope I am._

_A gift from Annie, the journal that I’ve been writing in is coming up on its final pages. Filled with words and warped pages from tears and sweat and exhaustion and the rainbow that has been my darkest days to the bright ones that I live in now._

_This month has been a good one. The ring that circles my finger is a sign of that. I can’t stop looking at it, as childish as that may sound._

_But not all months are good ones._

“Katniss?” I look up from the pages and smile towards Peeta, framed in the doorway by the hall light. He looks like he’s glowing, like there’s a burst of something engulfing him and making him more beautiful.

“Hmm?” I reply, my fingers flattening out the pages instinctively. Protectively.

Despite Peeta and I being as close as we are, I still haven’t been able to show him my journal. I don’t know if I could, if either of us would survive my worst thoughts coming to light. He knows it too, he doesn’t pry, and I’m thankful for that.

“Did you need to grab a shower tonight or…” he leaves the sentence open, his eyebrows practically waggling at the idea he’s suggesting. I scoff and shake my head.

“Not tonight. I’ll grab one in the morning before my interview.”

_That’s right. I have an interview._

I nearly add exclamation marks to the line I write but then remember who I am. I’m not that person, even if I am better.

“Oh, fine,” he teases before grabbing his towel off the door hook and disappearing down the hallway. I watch him go, my mouth forming a smile without even thinking about it.

_I don’t know why he’s still here. But he is._

I want to scratch that line out, erase it from the page, but I know I can’t. That’s the one rule Annie gave me when she handed me the journal a year ago.

“Katniss.”

I can see her now like it’s happening at this moment.

Annie sitting at the table across from me, her tiny frame tucked under layers of clothing that seem to shrink her. I watch her carefully as she slides a book across the table towards me, her hand disappearing as soon as it’s before me.

“I wanted to give you this. It’s a journal to write all your thoughts in. There’s just one rule you have to keep,” she pauses and I look up and meet her gaze, my eyes tired and red from the crying session we’d just shared. “You can’t erase anything from it.”

I look away, knowing. She knows what I’m going through, we’ve just spent the last hour talking about depression and how our treatment and experience has been. It was hard. It’s been hard. But I think I’m making progress and I know Annie definitely is.

“Katniss?” I turn back to her, my thoughts rearranging to focus. “Just keep that promise. I think it will help you. I had a counsellor suggest I do this too – write down thoughts from each day, whether they’re good or bad, and then read them to yourself. It helps you to see what’s real and what isn’t.”

I remember not quite believing her. I remember taking the book and flipping through it absently, my lip between my teeth. I’d gone home to Peeta and his waiting, comfortable, embrace. I’d written my first entry that night.

 _How do you even write things down? Do you even have any thoughts, Katniss_?

I read the line over again and then let the pages close back to where I’ve been writing today. It seems like night and day as I think about it – I was critical and mean to myself, the depression fighting with my innermost thoughts on a daily basis. It’s different now. I smile to myself and settle back against the headboard, the comforter resting over my toes.

_I’d say I measure a year in pages. In little stories that I tell myself that anchor me to the passage of time. I can measure this year in this journal. I can turn to pages from August, to the ones that cover our time on the beach, far away from here, and see how the sunlight had shone so bright that it had warmed me on the inside. I can turn to April, when Peeta’s mother passed away._

I still my hand and listen for the sound of the shower as it beats down on the tile.

The loss of Mrs Mellark had been a turning point for me. Not so much in that it had been terribly sad or all-consuming. No, Mrs Mellark had died peacefully in what Peeta had seen as a final act of kindness for her family. We’d gone to the funeral, though we hadn’t really mourned.

It had been a weird time.

Flipping back to the page from the funeral, I try to picture it.

“And with our final goodbyes, we bow our heads…” I glance out of the corner of my eye to see Peeta, his frame still taunt with anxiety as he stares ahead. As everyone around us bows their heads I see his Adams apple bob, the motion pronounced alongside his palpable tension.

It’s then I see how he truly looks, how others must see him. With his golden hair and his strong lines, with the bluest eyes now fighting to remain unchanged. The tired look of exhaustion that clouds his expression.

I reach over and grip my hand around his, squeezing as though I can take some of what he’s feeling into me and give him relief.

He looks at me then, eyes wide and gaze set. It’s as though we’re seeing each other for the first time again. Shuddering out a breath, I feel him lean towards me and I nearly jump out of my seat into his embrace, the feeling of coming home finally breaking through the haze that has been surrounding me for so long.

We stay like that until the church has emptied around us, our arms tightly holding on to one another as though the simple act of letting go would sever us completely. When finally we part, it’s as though our bodies remain connected again and I feel like we’ve never been closer. Like all the anger and frustration from my illness has been pushed away and I see him for the man he is.

The man who has stood beside me, through everything. The man who has taken so much of my pain onto his shoulders so that I’m not alone in my fight, not ever.

“We just have the will reading and then we’re done,” Mr Mellark says, looking towards Peeta later that evening. I watch their exchange and try to tuck myself further into the corner of the loveseat I’m occupying.

“I’m sure there’s isn’t really any need for me – “ Peeta starts, his father quickly interjecting.

“No, Peeta, both you and Katniss are noted.”

I look towards Peeta with surprise, sure in my memory that Mrs Mellark was not a fan of the trashy girl her son had been with for all these years.

“If this is some cruel jo-“ Peeta starts, looking between his father and his brother Rye frantically before his father interrupts again.

“It isn’t. The lawyer should be here soon, I need to tidy up the kitchen,” he finishes and then rises, lumbering out of the room with the same heavy gait that all Mellark men seem to have.

I stay anchored to my spot, turning over the possibilities of what could be in her will for me.

“I’m sorry about this,” Peeta mumbles as Rye leaves to follow his father.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I reply and break out of my thoughts enough to press a kiss to his cheek. I linger there, the warmth of him comforting me as I hope my touch comforts him.

It isn’t long before the lawyer is reading the instructions that have been left to him. Peeta and I stand against the wall in the back of the study, not willing to be separated into two chairs and preferring to stay close. Just in case we need one another. Just in case.

“And to my son, Peeta, I leave the emerald gold ring and necklace set for the purpose of gifting it to my daughter-in-law, Katniss Mellark, may they understand the strength of time and family.”

I can almost feel Peeta’s hand still clenching around mine as I look down at the ring I wear, the small piece of jewelry that I never leave home without.

_Mrs Mellark’s final thought for Peeta had been the approval she’d been so reluctant to grant him when she was alive. I doubt Peeta had needed it, but that moment had lifted whatever reservations I had had about us and our future. In that moment, at the realization of the length of a life, it had made so much more sense._

_Peeta and I had used the ring for our engagement. I’d finally taken the leap and been able to give him that, been able to see the future and the bright possibility of it. Confronted again with mortality it seemed easier to look at life outside of my depression. Time was different then._

_How do you measure a year?_

_I measure a year in seeing the difference in then and now. In looking at old entries and reading the hopelessness, the despair that coloured my words. Now I read the entries and I see rekindled hope, a future I’d once wished didn’t exist._

“Still writing in that?” Peeta breaks in as he enters the room, towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still damp. I feel my belly curl in delight at the sight of him.

“I think I’m done,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. I see him pause as he stands before the dresser, his hands prone on the handles as he looks in the mirror at himself.

I know the look he wears now. It’s the one where he’s unsure of the territory, unsure of whether I’m sinking again.

“Oh yeah?” I can see the visible gulp from here, the way he closes his eyes tightly if only for a quick moment as though he’s mustering his strength.

I hate that he has this look but I understand it.

And I know how to fix it. And I know that I will always need to keep fixing it because it’s the part of us that makes us strong.

We get through it, together.

I’m on my feet like a shot, my body pressed to him with not an inch between us.

“It’s good again,” I whisper and lift up to capture his lips with mine, sharing my strength and my love, our trust and our persistence.

When he returns the kiss, when I feel the breath of life at his touch, I know it’s true.

It can be good again. It is. And it will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll just leave this here.


End file.
